


It's just a phase I'm going through

by jovialien



Series: MagicVerse [8]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Magic, not a high school AU Frank just happens to go there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2032509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jovialien/pseuds/jovialien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bullet dodged, Frank and William start to recover and the boys settle back into their normal lives and a new training routine, but still there's something not quite right...</p><p>As Ray's visions begin to grow stronger, will they be able to figure out what they mean in time to make a difference, or to stop the worst scenarios that haunt his nightmares from coming true?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _"You, me, them, we're not at all the same, We see things different,  
>  Chain me down, feed me your medicine, I'm losing control,  
> I feel tired the walls are closin' in, I give in,_  
>    
>  _My love it ain't you, it ain't you,  
>  It's just a phase I'm going through,  
> It ain't you, it ain't you,  
> Don't tell me you don't feel it too..."_
> 
> New Politics, My Love

Mikey Way can't help feeling a little odd on his way to school on the Monday, Frank's absence making the walk quieter to say the least. It isn't bad, just quiet, and weird, which in itself is weird as Frank hasn't even been here that long. Still, maybe that's the coven effect.

Mikey can't hold back the grin that breaks out over his face and why not, there's no one around to see the crack in his usual laid back and chilled out demeanour. He is in a coven and this is gonna be _awesome._ He can feel it, the tingle of power in him, the way everything seems to be settling somehow, as though he'd spent the past year trying to write with the wrong hand and now he is allowed to switch. 

Now, maybe, he won't be so reliant on Gerard all the time. Maybe he could actually have a bit of freedom, which is a contradiction as he is now tied to his friends, maybe forever, but who cares? With his powers more under _his_ control there's so much more he could do, so much more he could try, so much...

He barely even notices the girl walking behind him at first, her presence just a thought in his mind, but then what could only be described as _heat_ washes over him. Huh, why on Earth would he be blushing, he wasn't thinking of anything dodgy, so why-

Oh, it was her thought, that's cool. He already knows girls are just as filthy minded as boys, that's cool, just because she's eyeing up some hot bloke and imagining his ass didn't matter, it was just-

His ass. She was admiring _his_ ass, holy fuck, she was _checking him out_!

Pretending to stop to check a message on his cell, Mikey slows, leaning casually against the wall as she passes without even giving him a second glance. Really, zero interest, not even a flicker, he must have imagined it-

Oh fuck, there it is again, just as she is about to cross the road she glances back at him and that was it again, she likes him!

And she's cute.

And in his Lit class.

And Frank isn't here to act like the biggest gooseberry of all time.

Grinning to himself, Mikey adjusts his clothes and straightens his glasses before continuing on his way, just a little faster than he was walking before.

******************************************** 

When Frank's mom said he had to see his friends as much as possible he figured he'd stop by the comic book shop after school, drop in and see Mikey in the coffee shop whilst he worked, maybe meet up with Bob and Ray when they finished work, the usual sort of thing. 

Having to spend a couple of days alone in the house whilst his throat healed enough to not hurt like a mother every time he swallowed, that had sucked, especially now he could actually be out there seeing them – okay, Gerard - again. And even though when he had tried (difficult when he still had no voice) to bitch about being alone his mom had kept telling him to enjoy it whilst he could, smiling in that way that rang faint alarm bells, but really, he had no way of knowing she would do this.

_*She drew up a fucking schedule for all of us?!*_

Mikey Way snorts but nods, handing over his copy for Frank to examine next to the one that he had just found in his bag. “Yep. She got us to give her our work rotas, class schedules, family dinner times, the works. She has every minute of your life planned and plotted for the next month.”

Flicking through the chart, Frank resists the urge to scream only because 

a) they are in the middle of the hallway  
b) his throat is still raw enough that it would really hurt and  
c) his voice is still so pathetically weak what would actually come out would just be embarrassing.

It was bad enough that his few days off school to get his throat to the stage where he could _breathe_ through it again, let alone speaking, had led to jokes from the guys that he had been sucking too much dick and needed to work on his technique (as if). 

Although, whereas at his old school those jokes would have preceded a severe beating, here that just seemed to inspire Urie to make up a lunchtime musical number called “gay fever”, complete with its leading men, pepper and pepper, and a cast of sauce packets, the 'saucettes'. Really, his life, sometimes Frank figures that maybe the entire town has LSD in the water supply or something. It would explain a lot.

But not this.

_*She scheduled my SEX LIFE?!*_

Mikey snorts and shakes his head, mischief in his eyes. “No, she scheduled your _love_ life. See all the little pink hearts she added in, next to the big stop sign, assigned chaperone for other house visits, and 'not in the house' note. That's on every copy by the way.”

Giving up, Frank turns to face his locker and starts banging his head against it.

“Face it Iero, you're outclassed. Your mom is terrifying, seriously, and a diabolical genius.” Pausing, Mikey looks thoughtful. “Are we really _sure_ she's not still evil?”

Flipping him off, Frank just leans against the locker and sighs. He's about to try and speak again when Mikey shushes him and he looks up just in time to see some random girl with enormous blonde hair, seriously, there could be a family of hamsters living in there with her, practically attach herself via suction power to Mikey's face.

Okay, so that's new. He's heard that Mikey has had a couple of girlfriends in the past, sure, but none in the months he's been here. Interesting.

Leaning back against his locker, Frank folds his arms across his chest and just watches for a minute before coughing to get their attention. At least, that's his excuse for the loud hacking noise his chest makes him make at the waft of her overwhelming perfume and Jesus, did she bathe in it or something?

The look Mikey throws him could knock small animals stone cold dead.

“Frank, this is Charlene, Charlene, this is Frank. He's lost his voice so don't expect him to say much.”

“Aww, you poor thing!” Frank can't help grinning but nods, hand to his throat and a mock apologetic look on his face. “What's wrong with you?”

“He's got a virus.”

“Aww!” Frank lets himself be awwed at whilst watching the way she limpets herself to Mikey's arm as though wanting to climb him and really, he's only been off like three days, how involved could they even have gotten yet-

Mikey's sudden flush of red makes Frank almost sputter. _*You DOG!*_

Mikey rolls his eyes before switching seamlessly into a death glare that would chop up the remains of the small animals his earlier stare killed, and wraps his arm around Charlene's shoulders. “Frank, we're gonna go get some fresh air, I'll see you later, okay?”

Hugging himself to keep from exploding with glee, because, seriously, this is gonna be _too much fun_ to tell the guys, Frank nods quickly and just watches them go. The death threats and general aspersions on his character cast his way by Mikey are just amusing, and really, Mikey's met his parents so THAT one just blatantly isn't true. 

Besides, at least this gives him a whole extra half hour his mom hasn't already filled in for him. Grabbing his bag, Frank pats down his pocket to make sure he has a lighter and heads out for some 'fresh air' of his own.

 

**************************************

Ray is still tired, the respite not quite as relaxing as they had planned, not to mention the sudden jarring awakening from a deep, deep state of sleep to full on panic mode had ruined some of the good work Gerard had done. But, it was enough, it was a moment of solitude and rest that had done more to help Ray than all the sleep he had got within the month preceding it. 

And he was going to use it to its fullest value.

The worst of the exhaustion passed, he is able to eat and work again, the routine returning a much needed anchor to his life that really, most people underestimate. Yeah, so getting up and going to work every day could get boring, but it was also a structure, a sense of achievement and a purpose that helped keep him grounded no matter how out there his visions got. Spending half his life drifting through dreams made him value the normality of the filing and admin at work more than ever.

Not to mention, it was a good distraction and stopped him dwelling on his dreams.

All said and done though, he's just as glad to see five o'clock tick around on Friday as anyone else in the branch. Heading out into the pouring rain is a relief and welcome snap of cold against his skin after the slightly too warm heating. Seeing Iero leaning up against the wall, shoulders hunched into his hoodie and dripping even under the slight shelter of the overhang just makes it ever better.

“You look like a drowned rat.”

Flipping him off with a single finger poking out from his crossed arms, Frank shuffles closer, bag knocking against his side as he hurries after Ray to his car. His voice is only a faint, hoarse whisper when he speaks but he tries anyway. “This sucks.”

“The weather or having to hang out with me.”

Frank hesitates just long enough to earn a quick slap round the back of the head, dislodging his hood and exposing him to the rain and making him hiss like a gremlin until he can pull it back into place. “Fine!” He whispers back, the lack of volume making him more pathetic and whiny than actually angry. “Hanging out with you is cool, I just... It's Friday, I'm wet and cold and want a hot shower and kinda wish Gee was taking me home to my empty house instead of you-”

“Got it,” Ray laughs, opening the car and sliding in before shaking off the worst of the rain caught in his hair. Really, in the right light it looks like he's been glitterbombed.

The fact that he knows what he looks like glitterbombed is just a given, he is friends with Gerard Way after all.

“You sure...” Frank starts before trailing off as they pull out of the car park. It's so quiet Ray would dismiss it as his imagination if he hadn't seen the odd look Frank had tossed him at the same time.

“Sure about what?”

Shrinking down into the chair, Frank shrugs. “You sure you're up to this?”

Sighing, Ray focuses on the after work traffic and waits until they reach the back roads before answering. “Honestly? Not sure, that's why we have another sleepover scheduled for tomorrow night after Gee finishes work, and he's managed to get Monday off to recover so we can all get up to strength again. It'll be fine.”

Frank gives him his best bullshit face and Ray grins, just a little.

“Look, I gotta get back in the saddle and after what happened last week- I need to focus Frank, I could've, I should've seen what you were up to and I don't know, stopped you or helped you, I don't-”

Franks shoulder thudding against his is almost enough to make him steer the car over to the other side of the road but Ray swings it back over with a laugh. “Get off me you freak.”

“Not. Your. Fault,” Frank wheezes out, weak but emphatic.

“Yeah, well, someone should've stopped you being such a damned fool. We're supposed to look out for each other. We're coven.”

Frank snorts, loud and clear despite his throat, and shakes his head. “I should've trusted you. Not 'cause we're coven, because we're _friends_.”

“That too,” Ray admits. “Come on,” he says as they pull up outside Frank's house. “Let's see if your mom has something better than vegan tofu shit to snack on whilst we work.”

**********************************

Frank can still barely speak, but he doesn't need to for this, sitting cross legged on his bed facing Ray. The sanctuary space created around his bed doesn't block Ray's powers – or Frank's as he well knows – but it should keep them from having any uninvited company. Not that Frank has seen Bert at all this week, although as William has been absent too it doesn't bother him too much yet.

His bedroom door is wide open, the slight draught of a breeze through the house making the candle sitting on his bedside table flicker a bit but it doesn't matter. Ray certainly isn't bothered by it, his hands resting easy on his thighs as Frank sips at the slightly bitter tea. Tea leaves aren't usually his thing, but it's a start, the tarot cards resting by Ray's bare feet for later and his 'travel sized' crystal ball snuggled into the blankets between them.

Whilst Ray's attic has the better calming space, Ray wants to try reading Frank in his space, where his energy is strongest, and hey, it's a Hell of a lot warmer than the Toro's attic so Frank is all for it. The tea, less so, the leaves brushing over his tongue and making him want to gag. Trying to strain the tea through his lips as he sips at it, leaving a group of leaves around the rim of the old fashioned tea cup, he hurries through it even as Ray laughs softly.

“Shut up,” Frank whispers, swirling the last of the tea around in the vain hope of getting all the leaves to drop to the bottom.

“It's okay Frank, there's no rush.”

“Horrible.” Shuddering as he finishes one last big gulp, Frank almost throws the cup at Ray before Ray stops him, placing his hand over Frank's.

“I know.” Guiding his hands, Ray helps him to grab the small saucer and turn the cup upside down, watching as the last dregs of tea seep out from under the edge of the cup and into the saucer. At least this time Frank has drunk enough not to spill it onto the sheets. Holding Frank's hand firm over the cup, Ray closes his eyes and concentrates, breathing steadily as he gently eases the cup the right way up again and lets Frank pull the saucer off. With their hands together, Ray pulls the cup closer to him and opens his eyes.

The swirl of leaves is a blur, indistinct and like one of those impressionist pictures. Up close, it is meaningless, just dots, but from the right distance a picture emerges. The heat of the cup is fading but Frank's fingers are still warm from it against Ray's as he looks into the leaves and tries to find the right angle.

The leaves shift, whether in the cup or in his mind he isn't sure, but there is an image of a flower, pale in the light and shimmering slightly. He can smell it, the fragrance familiar to him, one of the night blooming flowers from the Garden. But as he watches it starts to twist and blacken, twisting with the heat until it is consumed by flame, nothing but ashes remaining. Water starts to drip onto the ashes though, washing them away until just a small green shoot remains.

Okay, so there's hope, destruction but rebirth too; whether this vision is literal or a metaphor Ray doesn't know but it's reassuring in an odd way. The image shifts again, and this time it's movement, distant but clear, as though Ray is floating over everything There are figures running through a field, the stubble of the crops long cleared and deep furrows mixed between slippery mud and solid lumps making a minefield of obstacles. 

One figure leads, dark haired and running flat out even as others chase after it, their clothing a random mix, nothing distinctive, but still, there is something uniform with the way they move and interact that marks them as together, a group. As Ray watches, his view changes to focus on the group, a swirl of red washing through them, a signal he's long since learned to interpret as danger. Whoever they are, they are dangerous.

“Ray?”

He can feel his breath coming fast, drawing in gulps of air as he watches, his fingers tightening.

“Ow.”

The image changes again and this time the figure in the lead is right in front of him, running flat out, feet slipping over the ground, and as he watches one sneaker slides uselessly across the mud, stretching out too far and the figure falls, a face coming up and looking over his shoulder, fear in his eyes-

“Ray?”

“Frank!” Letting go of the cup, of Frank, Ray sits back, blinking rapidly to try and adjust to where he is. Frank quickly puts the cup down and shifts on the bed, hands drifting to rest on Ray's knees.

“You okay?” The whisper is hoarse but enough to bring Ray back out of it and he starts to talk, babble really, telling everything he's seen as quickly as he can. He doesn't even notice as Frank grabs a pen and paper and starts making notes. It isn't until he finishes and looks up that he even realises Frank is looking at him as though waiting for more.

“What?”

Pointing to himself, Frank raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, it was you, you were running from... I don't know what they were, some guys, I don't...” Blowing out a deep breath, Ray runs his hands over his face and forces a smile. “On the plus side, looks like doing this in your room is helping.”

Laughing and wheezing at the same time, Frank nods and puts the paper aside, picking up the crystal ball instead and holding it up on his fingertips challengingly. With a nod, Ray shifts Frank's fingers to hold the ball in the air between them and focuses. Maybe this time he can get some clearer details...

******************************************

It's pitch black outside by the time they finally blow out the candles, the air cold and making Frank's throat hurt as he waves Ray off. They tried the ball, the cards, even some weird thing with a bowl of water and candle wax, but still the visions were roughly the same. Frank running, flowers and flames, mysterious men, all very Marvel. 

It seems almost impossible to believe, with the sleepy town and small shops and generally laid back feel of the place, that there could be danger here. The most exciting thing the local paper carries is pictures of the elementary school plays and announcements for birthdays and bake sales. Besides, Ray's vision had mud in it and the grass is still covered in a thick layer of snow

Still, it never hurts to be prepared. And one thing Frank Iero can be, is prepared.

Or at least, better prepared than he was last time...


	2. Chapter 2

“What do you mean, you're not coming?”

Gerard Way can do puppy dug eyes like the best of them, he should be used in cartoons seriously, all chibi eyes and big smiles and a guilt trip capable of taking you to Mars and back. Immunity from it is exceedingly rare and hard earned, gained only through much practice and sheer stubbornness, both of which Mikey Way has in spades.

“It's English Gee, not Spanish, you heard me, I'm not coming to Ray's tonight.”

“But... But, we're a coven now and Frank can make it, it might make a difference if one of us isn't there-”

“But nothing, Gee, I have a date and trust me, spending the night with her is a lot more attractive than spending the night with you four. 'Specially if I'm gonna have to spend the rest of my life with this BS every time someone wants to mess with so much as a little glamour charm to hide a bad hair day.” Letting out a frustrated sigh, Mikey checks his hair in the mirror and shrugs. “I just wanna be normal for once, can you let me do that, huh?”

Gerard is most definitely pouting, but Mikey can see the softening in his look and just waits him out. Not that he needs his brother's permission, but it'll make life easier in the long run if Gerard at least thinks he had a say in the matter.

“Fine, I guess we'll cope without you, but what if there's a problem-”

“It's called a cellphone, Gee, we all have them. You can call me. Tell Frank to keep the fuck out of my thoughts though, I don't want that little shit giving me cravings for cheetos in the middle of me and Charlene having-”

“Lalalalalala!” Gerard starts humming, slamming his hands over his ears and glaring at Mikey. Grinning, Mikey salutes him and heads for the door. Honestly, serves him right after all the things he's almost caught Gerard and Frank doing...

*******************************************

Frank looks up from digging into the corner of his takeout long enough to see Gerard take yet another look at his cell phone then positively _flounce_ out of the room, muttering about fresh air. “Okay,” he asks weakly through a mouth of noodles as soon as the door slams downstairs, a grin on his face, “what's up with him?”

“Mikey didn't come,” Bob says simply, as though that explains everything, and huh, maybe it does.

“That's it? He's pissed 'cause Mikey ditched us for a girl? 'Cause I gotta tell you guys, I love you and all, but if I could get rid of you both and drag Gee into another room for a marathon make out session I would without a second's regret.”

Ray snorts from his nest of duvets and blankets and nibbles at his last dumpling with a satisfied but sleepy look. “Noted, just stay the fuck out of my parent's room. Take the attic at least, that's where my brothers tend to do their defiling.”

“Eww?”

Ray just shrugs.

“Still, you guys must've ditched him for girls before, and vice versa?”

“Sure,” Bob nods, following Ray's grabby hands motion towards the remains of the won tons and with a wave of his hand floating the box up and into Ray's grasp. “'Course we have, and Mikey used to be quite the player, but it's been a while, I mean, Mikey got his powers and got sick and it just kind of... We hung out more, y'know?”

“Gee's had to take care of Mikey a lot, more than I think Mikey knows, and he feels responsible for him, protective. It was hard enough for him letting Mikey go back to school, but now Mikey's stronger and just... doesn't need him as much as he did.”

“Which is a good thing, right?”

“Oh totally!” Ray agrees, stifling a yawn. “But he needs to get used to it. He'll sulk for a bit then get over it, just you wait. I mean, Mikey is his baby brother, and he's out dating, growing up-”

“I'm a year younger than Mikey, and Gee thinks I'm plenty grown up,” Frank smirks, sticking his tongue out.

“God knows why,” Bob mutters, starting to tidy up the empties, before getting distracted by making his chopsticks march across Ray's bed of their own accord, like a proper grown up.

***********************************************

Gerard is tired as he sits in the darkened room, watching over Ray as he sleeps, his eyes almost falling shut too but he forces them open. It's gone 4am according to the clock and Bob and Frank are dozing on the floor in front of the TV as the battle for Minas Tirith begins, the sound down low. 

Ray has slept deep and undisturbed for a solid six hours since his last bathroom and food break and his colour is back to normal, his eyes losing the sallow look that has plagued them for the past few weeks. It should be a few months now before Ray needs this again, although Gerard plans to suggest they make it a monthly thing to just give him a few hours dreamless nap to avoid him getting this bad again. Little and often, that might be the key.

Short naps, that sounds good. That sounds really, really, good...

Gerard forces himself to sit up straighter and wishes Mikey was there – the others try but Mikey is almost as insomniac as Gerard and just keeps him company longer than they can manage. Frank is snoring for fuck's sake, the slight rasp and rattle in his breathing exaggerated in sleep despite them giving him another dose of the green goo that evening. The marks on his neck are fading now, less angry after a week and repeated applications of the goo, but they are still visible and part of Gerard wonders if they will ever fully fade, if he can ever undo the damage Bert has done.

Bert. 

Closing his eyes, Gerard leans back against the wall and blows out a slow breath at the wave of grief that washes over him. Even now, after all this time, it still hits him every now and then, the pain not as consuming as it once was, but still-

“You don't miss me then?”

Opening his eyes, Gerard tries not to shiver at the sight of Bert sitting at the end of the bed, his body silhouetted by the television, surprisingly solid looking and real. Gerard can even smell the faint waft of the cigarettes Bert liked, and the sickly sweet smell of spilt tequila that he knows will be on the end of his coat sleeve. 

“I miss you.”

Bert smiles softly, nodding to himself. “Good. Hate to think you could get over me that easily.”

“Easily?” Gerard laughs, a broken sound and runs his hands over his face. “Easy? Since when was anything about us easy?”

“Yeah, you did like to do things the hard way. You know this is all your fault though, right?” Gerard freezes, unable to move as Bert leans back on the bed, staring at him with empty grey eyes. “And I mean beyond the obvious bit where you killed me, but this, all this, this was you too, remember?” Laughing coldly, Bert waves his fingers over his form then the room in general, including the sleeping boys. “You begged me not to leave you. You begged me to stay. Remember Gee?”

“Bert, I-”

“You were so fucking guilty, you couldn't bring yourself to let me go, and now, guess what? You got me. Forever, honey, that's what you said, forever-”

“Bert, please-”

Gerard jumps as the remote slips out of his hands and onto the floor, looking round the room quickly but Bert is gone. The others are still sleeping, the film continues to play, but there is no trace of a ghost. Taking a shaky breath, Gerard buries his face in his hands and closes his eyes but isn't sleepy at all any more.

*********************************

Nonna Way has never had any problems reconciling her... unconventional lifestyle with her faith. Doctrine may have an issue with Witchcraft and Magic, not to mention the more fluid sexuality of many of her friends, and that's before she even thinks about the cursed ones, the werewolves and vampires and creatures from mythology who inhabit her world, but she has never found it a problem. God created man, there is magic within mankind, so God must have given it to them.

Having a gift so close to nature helps, she has to admit sometimes. It's so easy to feel the power in the weather, in the Earth, in each and every plant she nurtures, that it is obviously part of God's love, His design, a part of Him that she can actually touch. Other people, other Christians, can think what they like but she knows her powers and those of her family come from God so, as her grandsons would all too frequently say, fuck whatever anyone else thinks.

That doesn't mean she isn't a little hyperaware of any mention of it within the walls of the church itself.

“...satanic goings on in the cemetery!”

“-Salt they reckon, the grass is ruined-”

“-Mr Jamieson found it on his way to visit his wife's grave, a huge circle in the snow, and even empty liquor bottles, honestly, the shock, I'm surprised it didn't do him in too-”

Nonna Way knows it couldn't possibly have anything to do with her boys, because whilst they might be a little foolhardy with their magic sometimes they know better than to leave any evidence behind. She's taught them better than that, there has only ever been one thing, one boy, that ever made them do anything THAT stupid-

“That's right, around the McCracken boy's grave-”

Closing her eyes and offering up a silent prayer she takes her seat and lets out a slow breath. Of course, stupidity is relative and when it comes to Bert McCracken Gerard has proved all too often what a complete fool he can be.

********************************************************

Gerard is still a little wiped out from sitting up with Ray when he finally makes it home from the Toro house, but his strength is returning and seeing Ray so much better is a reward of sorts. Now all he needs is a cup of pure caffeine joy and maybe a little time with his notebook to exorcise the weird dream and some peace and quiet, then maybe a little alone time with a favourite memory or two of Frank for some stress release, and all will be-

“Good afternoon Gerard.”

Okay, scratch that plan.

“Hey Nonna,” Gerard leans down to place a quick kiss to the top of her head as he passes by her place at the table. She smells of cigarette smoke as always, the scent thickly curled around her almost as physical a presence as her pocketed cardigan, but even through it he can pick up the waft of her coffee like a trained sniffer dog. “You got a hot brew on still?”

“On the counter.”

Rubbing his hands, Gerard hurries over to the French press and touches it in spite of himself, unable to trust that it is truly, properly coffee hot, without the physical confirmation. Pouring himself a large mug full, he inhales deeply, enjoying the smell before taking a sip. “Mmm. From the garden?”

Nodding, Elena indicates a chair and takes a sip of her own coffee. “It takes a lot of work to make them grow here but worth it.”

“Wish I had your gifts for that alone,” Gerard jokes, flopping into his seat and wrapping his hands around his cup and yawning open mouthed, without shame.

“You do fine without them, you just have to apply yourself properly. And not get distracted.” Digging into her pockets she pulls out a pack of cigarettes and offers one to Gerard before lighting up her own. Waving her off, Gerard focuses on his coffee. He already inhaled several on the walk home and really, even he has some limits. Sometimes. “I hear you and your new boyfriend are still going strong. Still having fun?”

Sputtering into his mug, Gerard can feel his face flaming as he tries to hide it, but eventually gives up and raises his eyes to meet his grandmother's. He never could hide much from her anyway.

“Yeah, Frank's uh, he's good. We're good.”

“How did you meet again? Is his family local?”

“Nah, only moved here recently, I thought we said? He's a friend of Mikey's from school.”

“A toyboy eh? Maybe you do take after me then.”

Which of course is just what he needed midway through swallowing. Coughing, Gerard pushes his coffee away and regards her suspiciously as he laughs. “Nonna, you can't just say things like that.”

Supremely unconcerned, Nonna Elena just shrugs and leans back in her chair. “Just because I am old doesn't mean I can't still show a guy a good time. If you ever need any advice, feel free to ask-”

“No!” Laughing hard, Gerard shakes his head quickly. “Fuck no. Just... No.”

Smiling back, Elena nods and leans forward over the table and stares at him, considering. “So, you are... Happy? With him I mean. He treats you right?”

Nodding slowly, Gerard relaxes back into the chair and reels in his coffee again. “Yeah. He treats me good. He's... He's really good to me, Nonna.”

Reaching over, she places her hand over his and nods. “I'm glad. So, there's no way it would be you who left a circle of salt and an empty vodka bottle on Bert McCracken's grave.”

Pulling back sharply, Gerard knocks the coffee over, the mug rolling off the table and onto the floor with a loud crash against the tile and startling him. “What the fuck- You think I'd-” Scrambling out of his chair he grabs a cloth and starts wiping up the coffee as though cleanliness is suddenly the most important thing in the world to him. “You seriously-”

“Gerard, what am I supposed to think, how many people in this town would consider doing something like that-”

“Yeah, 'cause no one who'd ever seen Supernatural, or any fucking horror movie ever would think of that, Jesus, Nonna-”

“Gerard!” Snapping, she slaps her hands down the table and stands, hurrying to join him and ripping the towel from his hands. Throwing it on the table, she grabs his hands and holds them tight. “Don't lie to me, and don't lie to yourself, but most of all don't let that, that-”

“What?” He snarls, twisting his hands free and backing up, the air filling with the faint crackles of his shield. “'That' _what_? You all barely held your tongues when he was alive, so why hold back once he was dead? I know what he was grandma, I knew what I was doing, I knew him- And he's dead, and he nearly took me with him, and now you, what, think I'm trying to bring him back right as I'm finally starting to move on? For fuck's sake!” Stooping down to grab the two halves of the mug, Gerard throws them into the sink. 

“Yeah, okay, the vodka bottle was me, I screwed up, but that is the one and only time I've even set foot in that place since- Since he went there, and I sure as Hell wasn't in any state to do any magic that night. So I promise, the salt was most definitely, one hundred percent, not my doing. But I guess as the family screw up I'm first choice huh?”

“Gee, you are not a screw up, you just... love can make us do stupid, crazy things-”

“Like curse the football team?” Leaning in close to her, Gerard tilts his head as he stares her down. “Is that what happened, Nonna? Did you curse him too, try to keep him away from me? If so, it worked a little too well, huh? Stop trying to fight my battles for me, just go back to your plants and shit and stay out of it!” Slamming past her, Gerard storms off to his room and locks the door, leaning against it heavily.

Well, that wasn't exactly the chilled out Sunday he had planned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my new Yankpicker Isabella for going through this part and offering to help with the rest - You're awesome!

It's been over a week since the exorcism and Frank has almost given up by now, but nonetheless settles himself cross legged on his bed and takes a deep breath. The music playing fills his mind as he blows out slowly and concentrates on the thought of William, picturing him, calling him-

“Hey.”

Opening his eyes, Frank feels the grin on his face start to fade the instant he can make out the distinctly crumpled form of William, slouched in the corner of the room, resting on a pile of dirty clothes. “Fuck, Bill!” Scrambling off the bed, Frank stumbles to his knees in front of his guide and holds out his hands helplessly, unsure how to help.

The once pristine white shirt is ripped in places, Bill's hair more like a crow's nest than the sleek length it was before, and there's a slash across one knee of his trousers. Sisky is nowhere to be seen, and Bill himself is pale even for a spirit, his face showing an exhaustion that speaks of a longing for rest that never comes.

“William...”

“It's okay,” the guide says softly, smiling and trying to push himself up. “I don't... This is just how you perceive me, I'm not really hurt, I don't have a body, remember?”

“Then why do you look seriously fucked up?” Frank snarls, his fingers curling into fists as he tries to think of something, anything he can do to help.

“Because as far as my... energies are concerned I am? I have been trying to come back to you, but it felt...” Shaking his head, William shrugs. “The connection was weak, for a time I thought... I thought you had died and this was it, I was stuck forever in limbo-”

“Fuck, Bill, I'm sorry, this is all my fault, Bert-”

“He cannot hurt me, not seriously, and I'm glad he did not do you any lasting damage.” Bill starts to fade already, the old exhaustion starting to seep through Frank's bones as though sharing in his guide's tiredness. “Don't worry about me, I'll be-”

Bill fades out and Frank turns and collapses down onto the pile of clothes beside where he had been, curling up around the empty air and hoping that, even if he can't see him still, William knows he is there.

*********************************

Gerard is still in the doghouse after fighting with his grandmother, and doesn't he know it. Even Mikey is a little mad at him, if only for the increased attention they are both getting because of it. At least when asked about the circle, Mikey had the good sense to lie convincingly about a new dare craze going through school and letting the assumption stand that it was just a prank. After all, Bert's notoriety still has a little standing in the town.

It all still leaves Gerard sick to his stomach though, his nightmares helpfully tossing up images of Frank, the scars lining his chest and neck, blending into the soulless eyes and bloodied body of Bert lying on the road. It will pass, the dreams always do, but it doesn't make the midnight hours of waking up alone and a breath away from screaming any easier to take. If he could just have Frank there, maybe his mind would be able to get that he's okay, alive, maybe...

Instead, some nights he wakes to find Mikey clambering into the sheets beside him, elbowing him gently and rolling over begrudgingly, even though it's Gerard's bed. They don't speak of it, but in the morning Mikey just gets up and goes back to his room as soon as Gerard is awake again and able to push the dark aside. It's a strange reversal of the nights when Gerard used to watch over his little brother instead and keep his powers held back, but it's soothing. It's enough.

Until the dreams pass, it has to be.

*********************************** 

Frank hates snow. Well, okay he doesn't hate snow so much as he hates walking over snow that's been walked on by so many other fuckers it's become an ice rink. Ice rinks he likes, with ice skates and the socially acceptable excuse to grab a hand – or more - and the promise of hot chocolate afterwards. Fresh snow he likes, the deep, muffled thud and creak of each step, the sight of fresh powder drifting off his boots, that's fun.

This is slush with an added bonus layer of slippery death hidden under it. 

Picking his way across the path towards the Bryar Family Autoshop as best he can, Frank almost skids to his knees over a particularly slick patch and congratulates himself on escaping unscathed – at least until he hears the laughter mocking him. Looking up, he flips off Bob, grateful that at least he gets a ride home after practice tonight rather than enduring more of this, and simultaneously surprised at the sight of him working on something that is most definitely not his car.

“Thought you didn't have any customer jobs in right now?” Frank rasps, his voice regaining its strength but huskier than usual still. Least it doesn't hurt any more, and the marks have gone enough he isn't paranoid about his collar covering them. “Especially a heap of junk like that.”

Rolling his shoulders in a way that just screams 'I'm warming up to punch you', Bob drops his wrench and folds his arms and leans back against the van behind him. “She's mine.”

“She...” Swallowing at the way Bob is glaring at him, Frank forces a winning smile onto his face. “Is looking very good for an older woman. Didn't know you went for Cougars, Bob.”

Okay, the clip 'round his head is deserved but also totally worth it as Bob swings the passenger door open with a resounding creak. “Fuck you. Yeah, okay, so she won't win any beauty pageants and needs a bit of work but it's what's under the bonnet that counts and she's in really good shape, she has...”

Frank will admit it, he stops listening as Bob starts talking about cylinders and fuel capacity or some shit like that, hey, he doesn't know vehicles. But Bob does, has been messing with engines his whole life and if he says it's got potential, then it's good.

The fact that the van also has a weird slightly psychedelic camouflage paint scheme going on is another matter.

“- so with old man Burton moving to Florida to retire he figured it was about time to part with it and offered it to Dad. It's a fucking steal man, she is in pretty good shape, bit of cosmetic damage, few dings, lot of dirt but not much rust considering she's been in his garage all these years. Bit of work, she's all good. 'Sides, she just wants to be driven again, can't you feel it?”

Frank is slightly too distracted by opening the rear doors and looking into the back of the van, the open space between the doors and the back of the bench seat at the front dusty and with a few cobwebs across the space (which, eww, a couple are still occupied) but generally okay. There's just the driver and passenger seats, the rest of the van open space but with a pretty solid looking base to it – even if there is some sort of lurid green rug spread over most of it.

“What the Hell did this old man Burton do in this thing, 'cause I am getting some creepy PSA stranger danger film flashbacks here.”

“He didn't use it at all,” Bob explains, slamming the doors closed again and making sure the lock catches before motioning Frank round the front to the passenger side. “It was his son's. He went off to Iraq, way back when it first kicked off, and didn't come back. This van's been sitting in a garage for years waiting for a guy who never came back for it. Thought she deserves to be loved again.”

“Huh. I know I'm just being paranoid, comes from being nearly choked to death by one jealous ex, but I just don't wanna risk another. So just, just humour me a sec... Bill?” Frank asks softly, getting himself comfortable on the passenger side and looking over his shoulder into the back. “Whatcha reckon?”

His guide smiles back, still looking a little dishevelled but at least less beat up. He appears to sit on the floor of the van and plays with a spider in its web, flicking his fingers back and forth through the silvery strands as though trying to make it move. “His death was regrettable in itself, as all soldier's sacrifices are, but his spirit passed on content with its work. This fine steed holds only good memories in her bones, she will be a worthy chariot for young Bob.”

“Young? You do know you only look, like, a few years older than him right? You're not delusional or something are you? Do spirits go crazy, should I try and get hold of Freud's ghost to give you some therapy?”

“It's true that physically I was only in my twenties when I died, but you forget I already had a wife and family, a trade, a home. Never forget Frank, only the foolish measure a person's power or worth by their time travelling rather than their journey.”

Rolling his eyes, Frank shifts to look at Bob in the driver's seat, nodding. “Bill says she's clean, and you should hurry up and get married or knock some girl up already, times ticking!”

“I did not-”

“But you know what I wanna know most of all about this van?”

Bob sighs, throwing Frank a filthy look as though daring him to criticise it or suggest searching for hidden stashes of weed or porn.

“I wanna know if she has any heating 'cause I'm fricking freezing in here...”

*******************************

Practice – or more accurately, hanging out with – Bob is always the weirder of the 'lessons and chaperoning and keeping you out of trouble' that Frank's mom is making him do. At least with the others he's a participant in things, a subject for Mikey and Ray to practice on, and Gerard... Well, the way they test his powers when they are alone is a little less orthodox than when they have a chaperone, but at least he is most definitely part of the process.

Bob on the other hand, other than encouragement and playing fetch, Frank doesn't really know what he's there for.

There is still something deep inside him that thrills at the sight of a spark plug floating in mid air across the shop and onto the ground with the rest as Bob disassembles the engine. It's like being in Star Wars and having his own Jedi Knight at his side. If only his powers had such a practical and non threatening use maybe he wouldn't keep fucking up so bad.

“You're brooding again.”

Forcing a smile onto his face, Frank peeks out from his huddle of clothes and old, grease stained blankets on the small couch in the corner of the shop. “Nope, not brooding. Freezing though, yeah.”

Snorting, Bob returns to work and Frank sighs before trying to read his text book without shaking too much. Seriously, hanging out with the others is a lot more fun – not to mention warmer.

************************************

It's way too early. Why school has to start this early is beyond him. Frank is still waking up and seriously, it's too early to sit through a shitty lecture on some math thing he's never gonna use for the rest of his life. He needs caffeine and nicotine and maybe some Gerard, but instead all he's got is some leftover Hershey's in his locker, and nothing is going to stop him getting to it.

Except for the angry looking brunette leaning against it.

“You Iero?” Nodding, Frank tries not to smile too serial killer like as she rolls her eyes and thrusts an envelope into his chest. “Charlene told me, to tell you, to tell Mikey Asshole Way, to sack up and call her. And dumping someone by text is still so not cool, especially dumping her for a slutty cheerleader.”

Frank is sure the words make sense, but he's tired and hungry and this is something to do with Mikey and   
that's never good. “Huh?”

“Your mate's a dick.”

“Yeah, that bit I knew,” Frank mutters, and in spite of herself the girl laughs just once. 

“Look, give him the letter, tell him to call Charlene, and just so you know, Delia's a fucking whore so he better get himself tested.”

Nodding, Frank watches her go as, apparently satisfied her job is done, she disappears back into the crowd of students. Closing his eyes, Frank leans his forehead against the door of his locker and breathes out slowly, focusing.

* _She's gone. Fucker.*_

It's only a couple of seconds later that he feels a hand on his back and pulls off the locker to glare at Mikey. “You dumped Charlene then?”

Nodding, Mikey shrugs and doesn't look even a little sheepish. Then again he doesn't often look anything in particular, but this close Frank can feel there is no shame going on there.

“Yeah. Thanks for intercepting, her friend is a puncher.”

Snorting, Frank shoves the letter at Mikey and returns to his original mission of opening his locker and shoving as much chocolate down his throat as he can before the next period. “Ass,” he mumbles around a mouthful of chocolate before slamming it shut and turning around to stand beside Mikey, leaning against his side and casually letting their hands brush together to make it easier to talk.

_*So, cheerleader?”_ *

Frank can feel the grin inside Mikey through the link, even as Mikey's face doesn't change and he pulls out his phone, fiddling with the screen. _*Yeah.*_

_*How long's that been going on?*_

_*Since Sunday night.*_

_*Sunday... You spent Saturday night with Charlene! What the fuck?*_

_*She was getting too serious. And Delia was at the party too and-*_

Thumping his head back against the locker, Frank shakes his head. _*Stop. Just... Stop right there, please.*_

Pulling his hand away, Mikey pulls back and shrugs his bag back onto his shoulder. “So, Delia wants to go out tonight and-”

“Wait, we're supposed to have practice tonight, you me, and Gee-”

“No,” Mikey says slowly, as though Frank has lost a few IQ points in the building sugar rush he hopes to be getting soon, “I'm _supposed_ to be your chaperone tonight 'cause my folks are out and if _I'm_ out too, then you and Gee will be _all alone_ , but if you _really_ want me there-”

“No...” Frank sighs, shaking his head like it's a huge imposition, but the grin on his face is harder to contain. “No, you're right, it's a new relationship, a very special time, you should totally go hang with Delilah.”

“Delia.”

“Whatever. It's fine, I suppose Gee and I will find something to do to pass the time.”

“Just remember to-”

“Never, ever tell you, I know Mikey Way.” Tucking the chocolate wrapper back into his locker and slamming it closed, Frank grins. “So, cheerleader huh?”

Mikey just gives him a rare shit eating grin.

*************************************

“But Mikey wouldn't just brush off practice, why would he do that Frank?”

Frank pauses in his efforts to get his hands up under Gerard's shirt, and at the same time make a very important and thorough map of his jawline using just his lips, and just looks at Gerard. Then down to his hand, and beyond it the firm pressure of his own hard on brushing up against Gerard's thigh where he's straddling it. Then finally he just looks back down at Gerard and raises an eyebrow in a 'you really can't work it out?' way.

Gerard blushes adorably and pushes his head back into the pillow as Frank's lips find a sweet spot under his ear and oh, that's a lovely little noise he gets as a reward. A little x for buried treasure gets plotted onto his mental map of Gerard's skin for future reference. “Guh, fuck, Frank, I... Okay, I understand why but still, it's not like Mikey.”

“Yeah,” Frank whispers into his ear, “I can't think of any young man of around Mikey's age who would blow off magic lessons in order to get blown. Not one, nope. Certainly not the one who would like to stop thinking about your brother blowing us off and would rather focus on blowing _you_ at least three times before he has to get home.”

Gerard pauses, processing the words, then lets out a low groan and tightens his grip on Frank's back before rolling them over on the bed, pressing Frank down into the mattress and finally giving him the leverage he needs to get his hands up under Gerard's top. “Three times, huh? Don't know if that's physically possible.”

“You're a healer Gee,” Frank murmurs against his collarbone, nudging aside the cotton collar of his shirt to nuzzle against the pale skin hidden beneath. “You'll work it out.”

At a particularly harsh grind of Frank's hip against his prick, Gerard groans again and all but collapses on top of Frank before he regains the strength in his arms. “Fuck. Well, I guess I can see your point and one, shit, one night's missed practice probably won't hurt...”


	4. Chapter 4

Gerard finds out all too quickly that he has become far too used to the times when Frank is allowed to come hang out in the shop after school. His chatter and constant commentary on Gerard's work, asides about customers, and mocking the stupid excuses for the returns they get. (The amount of female Classic Star Trek costumes returned after Christmas was always good for a laugh). Even just seeing him lurking in the corner, peering over the top of a comic, or kicking his shoes against the counter in time with the radio, everything just makes the day go quicker. 

Alone, Gerard has too much time to think. Especially with the Halloween, Christmas, and New Year's rush (as pathetic as it is) over, and the routine of most of the customers running like clockwork and just serving to let him know exactly when he will be alone and killing time in the shop.

He used to like this down time, peace and quiet to work on his own comics or whatever else he wants to draw, either out on the counter perched on his stool, or in the back behind the curtain. It was always perfect to be able to just escape into his own little world and be whoever he wanted to be. 

Instead, the blank frames of the next episode of Frank Iero: Zombie Hunter, remain empty and taunting him whilst the scrap sheets he is inattentively doodling on are starting to fill with fragments of a picture rather than any whole. A wheel skidding on slick asphalt, frantic lines of motion covering its path. A shower of broken glass with one wide, frightened eye reflected ghost like in their fragments. A jacket sleeve, shredded from its path across the ground and splattered with blood.

A pair of eyes, grey and empty and lacking that vital piece of soul that had called them home.

Screwing the paper up, Gerard throws it at the overflowing bin and collapses down onto the makeshift desk, letting his hands tighten on his hair unmercifully as though it is the only way to hold his head up. He has to stop, has to let go sometime, but ever since knowing that Bert was back it has gotten worse. 

Immediately after the crash, Gerard didn't remember much about the accident itself other than the pain, blocking out the memories. When it did start coming back, he retreated into the nearest bottle to drown the images instead, fighting against what they were trying to show him even whilst the guilt ripped him apart. When that didn't work he had even tried to stop them altogether, stop everything, even his own life to make them go away.

After Mikey had stopped him, he'd chosen at last to try and replace the bad memories with good ones, new and hopeful and pushing away the old like a bad dream. And then Frank, wonderful fucked up Frank, and the way he made Gerard feel had given him real hope that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't tainted forever, that he could and should love again. And now...

“Fuck you, Bert,” Gerard whispers at last, eyes screwed shut against the images that keep playing through his mind like a trailer on repeat, breaking glass and screeching tyres all he can hear. “I was happy you asshole, I was actually happy, then you had to go and die, and now, now I'm finally starting to be happy again, you come back and fuck you, Bert, can't you just let me be happy? I... I don't deserve this, I-”

_Yes, you do._

Snapping like a dry twig, Gerard pushes back from the desk so fast he stumbles over the stool, crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs and black jeans, his boots scrabbling at the slick and old lino until his back hits the stockroom door. He can't honestly tell if the thought was his own or he heard it whispered into his ear, but it breaks his heart all the same, sobs racking his body as he tries to hold onto his sanity.

Because it's true. He brought this on himself, and his friends, and Frank, and it's all his fault.

**********************************

“Mikey? Mom? Dad?” Gerard yells as he lets his bag thud to the floor in the hallway, his eyes and face clear, if a little red round the edges, but nothing he can't blame on the cold. A muffled thud from upstairs comes in reply, then after a few moments Mikey emerges from his room, a hoodie and sweat pants on but the zip isn't quite done up and there's a hint of bare chest which is weird-

“Uh, hey Gee, mom and dad are meeting with the website guy tonight, trying to get the new shower range up and, um, out there. I didn't think you'd be home so soon.”

“Wasn't feeling too great so Charlie sent me home, he has a hot date with the UPS chick this weekend and doesn't want to risk me infecting him or some shit.”

“Huh, oh, that's uh, that's good.” Raising an eyebrow, Gerard stares up at Mikey and sighs.

“What's her name?”

“Her who?” The soft giggle from Mikey's room makes Gerard roll his eyes and sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Hi Mikey's girlfriend!” He shouts instead, the laugh getting louder.

“Hi Mikey's brother!”

Mikey smiles a little and shrugs. “Christine.”

“Hi Christine, I'm gonna grab some food then go down to my nice, mostly soundproof basement and turn some music up loud. Just...” Giving Mikey a stern look he drops his voice to a whisper and points. “Just don't let mom know, you know how she gets. You got protection?”

It's Mikey's turn to roll his eyes, but he nods nonetheless.

“Good.” Letting a smirk cross his face, Gerard motions to his room. “You want lube, 'cause I think Frank and I might still have some-”

Mikey flips him off even as he hurries back into his room and Gerard watches him go with a laugh that quickly fades. He could really do with some company tonight, but maybe it's for the best, avoid infecting anyone else with his dark mood. He can get through it.

Well, maybe with a little help from a different friend.

Taking a bag of chips and a glass from the kitchen, Gerard heads down the stairs to his room and closes the door tightly, pushing the bolt across before clicking on the stereo and the small bedside lamp. Collapsing onto the bed, Gerard leans over to let his hand dangle over the edge and grope underneath, brushing past the half empty tube of lube and instead tightening around the smooth glass of a bottle. “Well, hellooo Mr Daniels, we meet again.”

Pulling the bottle up, Gerard assesses the contents and nods. Just enough left to get him nicely wasted. Perfect.

Filling the glass, Gerard downs the first sip with a snap, letting the fire burn through him before toeing off his boots and settling down on top of his covers properly. They smell slightly of unwashed hair and cigarettes, but it helps to dull the smell of the liquor as Gerard proceeds to deal with his demons alone.

*************************************************

It's almost hypnotic, Frank thinks to himself, watching Mikey suck face with yet another girl. Like one of those Discovery Channel or Animal Planet documentaries on underwater creatures that use their mouths to cling onto rocks. Or maybe squid, all those tentacles like arms...

The pop when they finally break off and see him standing there is definitely kind of gross though, and Frank can't help wincing a little as girl number, well, at least four based on the ones he's actually seen Mikey with, steps back and drags her hands over Mikey's chest.

“I gotta go, but I'll see you later, right?” Nodding, Mikey gives her hands a squeeze before letting them go and retrieving his glasses from his pocket and putting them back on. “Can't wait.”

With a small wave to Frank the girl is off down the corridor, a definite spring in her step and seriously, how Mikey Way went from geek with funny glasses to school bike is beyond him, really, I mean what could Mikey do that no one else cou-

Oh.

“What's it like?” Frank asks softly, pushing Mikey away from the front of his locker and wishing once again that his locker wasn't in a nice quiet corridor that Mikey had figured was perfect for his hook up sessions.

“Sex with a girl? Well, I imagine a lot like sex with a guy, you see, when a boy and a girl like each other very much-”

Punching Mikey in the arm, Frank shakes his head and looks around, checking the corridor is empty before continuing. “Not that, Jackass. I mean, when you're that close to them you're in their head, aren't you.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Sooooooooo,” rolling his eyes, Frank swaps his books over and slams the locker shut. “Are we talking all being able to feel what she feels or more just inner monologue? Do girls really think during sex or is it all ooo and yeah baby, like in porn?”

Letting a small smile play over his lips, Mikey turns to face him and leans against the lockers. “It's not like porn. And I can tell what works for her as soon as she does, if you know what I mean, but mostly it's just...” Sighing slightly, Mikey closes his eyes and lets his head thud against the locker. “They never shut up.”

Laughing out loud, Frank shakes his head and hoists his bag up higher on his shoulder. “Seriously?”

“And the neuroses man, 'I hope he doesn't think my boobs are too small', 'oh god he touched my belly, he knows I'm fat!', not to mention the obsession with hair. And I don't mean on their heads.”

“Eww,” Frank snorts, “why do you bother then?” When Mikey just raises an eyebrow, Frank grins. “Fair point. Still, sex is kinda an intimate thing, and it's a big deal that they're giving you permission to be in their bodies, but in their minds? I dunno, doesn't it feel a little...”

“A little what?”

“I guess a little rapey, y'know, it's not like they can consent-”

“And at that range it's not like I can help it,” Mikey snaps, hunching down into himself. “I don't go poking around in their minds, for fuck's sake Frank, what do you take me for? I just... It's surface stuff, the things people would say out loud if they had the guts to, and you wanna know why all these girls are interested in me for once, and it's not that I'm forcing them, Jesus, Frank-”

“I didn't mean that, I just-”

“I listen to them, and not just what they say out loud but what they don't say, and I can tell them they're beautiful at the exact right moment when they feel vulnerable, or know when that girl they want to make jealous is nearby and pull her closer without them having to feel like a bitch. And I make it clear from the start I don't do relationships, this is just casual, and I never, ever, force them to do anything, for fuck's sake-”

“Mikey, I didn't mean it like that-”

“When Gee heals you, like back at the Haunted House, that first time there when you had that coughing fit and Gee sat with you, he healed you even though you didn't know it. Was that 'rapey'?”

“What? No, of course not-”

“Then what's the difference?”

“He was helping me, he wasn't doing it to get laid!”

“Well he got laid anyway, so what's the difference?!”

A clatter of feet on the stairs make them both jump and lower their voices, the fight fading down to a simmer instead of a full boil.

“Look,” Frank says at last, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I just... I guess I'm a bit paranoid about the whole Magic thing at the moment and I don't want you to get hurt, but I just don't want those girls to get messed around either. I mean, what if they really love you, that's dangerous stuff Mikey Way.”

Smiling sadly, Mikey reaches out to ruffle Frank's hair. “Why do you think they don't last long, hey? I can't take that chance. I'm not like Gee, I don't believe in soulmates and all that crap, and I've seen what love can do to someone. No way I'm risking that any time soon. 'Sides,” he adds, stepping back as the bell starts to ring, hurrying them off to yet another class. “I'm eighteen, plenty of time to fuck that up later.”

Laughing in spite of himself, Frank nods and gives him a quick salute before heading off in the opposite direction.

*****************************************

Ray Toro is feeling... Pretty great actually. It's weird the difference some decent sleep makes. The lingering exhaustion has faded, the nightmares are still there but manageable somehow, he's better able to get detachment from them and notice the details rather than the emotions. It's a relief to be back in charge again, not to mention he is no longer in imminent danger of being fired from the bank. Stability, routine, it's nice in its own way.

Tori settles down opposite him in the attic, collapsing onto a cushion with a typical teenage disinterested air but Ray can see the slight tension in her limbs and the gleam in her eye. Even though her own powers are still a couple of years off, getting each of them in practice with various disciplines has been a staple of their parents style of upbringing since they were born. After all, who knows what she will be? 

“So, what's today?” She asks with a grin, “you gonna read my palm? Or tarot, go on, do my cards again.”

“I wanna see how you take to the crystal ball this time.”

“Again?” Blowing out a pretend huff of boredom, Tori settles down further and places her hands flat on the table, palms up, either side of the large crystal. “Like this?”

“Palm down,” Ray corrects, gently turning her hands over and bringing them in a little closer. “That's it.”

“'Kay.” Looking at him, she frowns a little. “You've been practising a lot lately. You okay?”

“Huh?”

“I mean I get it if you can't talk about it, but uh, I think mom and dad are worried about you. They keep getting these odd looks every time you go out with your friends and come spend all your evenings up here. So, just, y'know, if they spring an intervention on you don't say I didn't warn you.”

“Appreciate the heads up, sis,” Ray grins, shaking his head slightly. “It's nothing, it's just, weather's shit so why not get some more practice in.”

“Riiiiiiiiight,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “Whatever you say, just, watch out, okay?”

“Just shut up and look at the crystal.”

Putting his hands either side of the crystal, Ray focuses in on the patterns of light inside and lets go, letting it draw him in. 

The images are light, airy, if he could pin it down to an emotion he would say hopeful or innocent. Tori flashes him a grin from within the flashes, her hair flicked over her shoulder as she sticks her tongue out. She is beckoning to him, asking him to follow, but then her smile fades and she is shouting instead and he can feel them, the dark figures from his other vision, lurking at the edges. A hand reaches out, grasping towards her-

No. No, he can feel the fear and anger inside him, threatening to break his focus but Ray pushes it aside, he has to know, has to see...

Tori is moving, fast, flying through the air but safe, a bubble around her protecting her even as a familiar energy wraps around her. The room is familiar, their grandmother's house, and there is the sense of safety and peace intensifies. He can feel the sense of other familiarity growing and sighs, content. He knows what has to happen, how to keep her safe.

But how to make it happen...

“So?” She asks quietly, not breaking his concentration but instead the image of her in his vision merges with the girl sitting opposite him, looking straight at him. “Am I gonna end up marrying some rich pop star or what?”

Sitting back, Ray blinks the vision away and looks at her carefully, the light reflecting in her eyes and off her lenses, half blocking his view. As he moves, the candlelight sparks unexpectedly around her neck, a chain he hasn't seen before slipping down under her clothes.

“Or what mostly,” he mutters, before tilting his head to regard her jewellery. “Didn't think you wore gold?”

“If it was proper gold maybe I wouldn't mind,” Tori complains, pulling the pendant out and off her neck before passing it to Ray. “Mom and dad's idea of keeping an eye on me. I keep telling them to just back off but nooo, gotta try and out me as a weirdo.”

Ray looks at the pedant, his fingertips running over the pattern loosely, and flinches as something in the back of his head seems to twitch at the sensation. It's like a sudden headache or when a stray hair snags and rips itself out by the root, a flash of pain then it's gone again. A pressure Ray didn't even realise was there fading and really, that's just weird. 

Shaking it off, Ray passes it back and nods, watching as she slips it back on. “Least you get to go to school on your own, having a big brother a couple of years above you causing chaos isn't fun, trust me.”

“You think they've forgotten you all, you're sorely mistaken,” Tori mutters, settling the chain back in. “Seriously, every teacher has asked if I'm so and so's sister, and then given me that look.”

“What look?”

Leaning over the small table, she throws him a sceptical, considering glare. “The 'I'm gonna be watching you' look. So really, I don't need the cheap copper jewellery, I got most of the school looking out for me anyway.”

“Good.”

“Over protective idiot.”

“Freak.”

“Interfering ass.”

“Ungrateful little brat.”

“Yeah, well, least I'm not a, like, a, a...” Unable to come up with a decent insult, Tori pushes back from the table and gets to her feet, heading for the ladder down out of the attic. “Jerk.”

“Baby!”

She flips him off from the top of the ladder before disappearing and Ray can't help laughing at her indignation. 

 

****************************************

Frank hasn't seen Mikey for days, not properly, each break and free period spent with a girl – not necessarily the same one for more than a couple of days, and he has skipped his practice sessions with Frank three times now. It's weird, and Mikey's new found stud status has been noticed by more than a few people. Half the girls in school seem to be throwing Mikey evils, the other half seem to be trying to get him to notice them, and as for the guys, well, Frank isn't gonna be much use in a fight trying to defend Mikey so hopefully the idiot won't sleep with anyone's girlfriend or sister.

Hopefully.

On the other hand, hanging around with Nick and the gang more isn't bad and is definitely less serious than worrying about mysterious masked figures and fire and doom and the undead. Kinda reminds him of how it used to be with the others, before magic got in the way, and it's nice. Simple. No portents, no fear, just arguing over music and film and just how much of a gigantic man whore Mikey has become. 

The time seems to be passing too fast all of a sudden, the snow is still on the ground but the atmosphere is changing, the year seeming to speed up, and Frank is all too aware of the countdown in his head. Fire and running and all the things Ray keeps seeing, they are lurking still. It's all too tempting to just ignore it, to pretend that it isn't going to happen, that the biggest thing he has to worry about it end of year tests and passing the year. 

It's so tempting. After all, he's just seventeen. What's the worst that could happen?


	5. Chapter 5

Bob doesn't hear anyone come into the garage, his focus all on the engine in front of him, but the glimpse of black out of the corner of his eye makes him spin round, wrench in hand ready to attack-

“Hey.”

“Gee.” Lowering the wrench, Bob turns back to his van, grease stained fingers running over connections almost lovingly. “What's up, got a problem with your car?”

Gerard laughs, a slightly odd edge to it, but drifts closer to stare down at the engine. “Can't a guy just drop by to say hi to an old friend?”

Shaking his head, Bob looks up, frowning slightly. “You saw me a couple of days ago, what, you just lonely or you wanna bitch about Mikey's latest hook up?”

“Fuck Mikey, I just- Forget it. Look, why don't you blow this off and let's get out of here, go have some fun, like the old days. Hey, remember that bar just off the interstate, the one with that barmaid who took a shine to you, what was her name again? Rachel? We should go out there, cut loose like we used to, whatcha say Bobby B?”

Bob turns to look at him properly at last and winces at the grey shadows under Gerard's eyes and the slight redness to them. “Gee, have you been drinking-”

Gerard blinks at him, stepping back from the van and shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets, pulling the layers around him tighter. “What? Why- What difference would it make, huh? Never used to bother you, what, you an old man now, gotta be all responsible and shit?”

“Gee, what the fuck am I supposed to think, you show up here in the middle of the day wanting to take off and go to some dive bar that we only ever used to go to 'cause Bert liked it and they never bothered to card us. I thought you and Frank were supposed to be meeting up tonight anyway, or did you forget? So yeah, I'm gonna ask, have.” Bob slams the wrench down on the edge of the workbench and grabs a cloth to wipe his hands off. “You. Been.” Striding over to Gerard, he presses his stained fingertips to Gerard's chin and tips it up, close enough to smell his breath. “Drinking.”

“Fuck you, Bryar.” Gerard snarls, huffing out a breath straight into his face and raising an eyebrow. Yeah, it smells, but not of alcohol, just coffee, a hint of cigarettes, and general 'could probably do with a mint' grossness, and Bob can't help sighing at the unclenching relief in his gut. “I'm stone cold sober, you asshole.” Gerard turns and stomps off, shaking his head. “I just wanted to say hi, but yeah, you're right, better get going if I'm gonna fuck little Frankie later, huh.”

“Gee-”

“No. Just- Forget it.” Gerard stops by the entrance to the garage and sags a little, his shoulders slumping. “Forget it.”

Bob watches him go then turns back to the van, engrossed in his work again. By the time he stops for a break, the whole encounter is forgotten.

Completely.

*******************************

It isn't until nearly Valentine's day that they are all together in one place at the same time, work and school and – in Mikey's case at least – love lives keeping them apart but finally a free Friday comes up and, surprisingly, Ray is the one insisting they all get together. Unsurprisingly, Gerard and Mikey offer to host it, Bob brings the liquor, Frank brings snacks, and Ray brings his guitar and a slightly too serious expression for a night of Japanese martial arts movies.

Mikey throws Ray glances throughout the evening, as though challenging him to speak up, but it is only when the second film is being thrown around the room (Gerard and Frank on the bed skimming it over Mikey's head to land in Bob's lap beside the TV) that Mikey finally sighs and holds up his hands.

“Ray, are you going to say it out loud or just talk over the whole of the next movie in my head too?”

Bob shifts on the floor to look up at Ray as he perches on the edge of Gerard's desk, arms folded across his chest self consciously. Frank extricates himself from the headlock and noogie Gerard was trying to give him (in revenge for a particularly sneaky ninja raspberry to the stomach attack) and twists to sit up on the bed, smacking Gerard playfully to draw his attention too.

Running a hand over his face, Ray shrugs and seems to shrink into himself under their gaze. “I didn't wanna bring the mood down-”

“Mikey's multiple Valentine's cards quandary did that already,” Bob points out with a smirk, ignoring the glare Mikey throws him, “so if it isn't about Hannah, Susannah or what was that other chick's name?”

“Brian!” Frank yells from the bed, getting a pillow in his face for his troubles as Mikey retaliates.

“Bryony.”

“Whatever, as long as it isn't more teenage angst love life bullshit I wanna hear it – especially if you've _seen_ which of Mikey's dates is gonna go all Carrie on him first, don't tell me 'cause I'd rather wait and find out for myself thanks.”

Mikey contents himself with flipping Bob off, but the tension breaks enough for Ray to unclench a bit, nodding slowly. “Not that, but it is... I've told you all about what I've been seeing, what is gonna happen to, well, Frank, us, I don't... The visions I've been having.”

The boys sit up straighter, fingers slowly pushing aside snacks and drinks to concentrate, ignoring but all too aware of the slight hum of energy in the air of having them all together.

“The creepy guys in black who wanna catch me in the cornfield?” Frank jokes, but Gerard's hand closes around his shoulder in support anyway.

“Yeah, them. I've been trying to get more details but it's stubborn, but I think... I think we should, uh, make a plan B. Just in case things go bad when we're not expecting them.”

“What sort of Plan B?” Bob asks quietly, his gaze shifting down to play with the disk in his hand, watching the light play across the silver surface, the strange reflections of them staring back at him.

“The usual sort of Plan B,” Ray admits. “Run away.”

“You really think something's coming that we can't handle here? With the collective, and the white net, and all the protections and shit our folks have been putting in place since they moved here?” Gerard sounds incredulous, shaking his head. “Fuck no, this is home, this is- Frank is safer here, we can protect him, me and Bob, and your dad- What fucking good will running away from trouble do, if something's coming here we have to stop it here, with the collective-”

“The Collective _are_ the danger!” Ray snaps back, surprised at himself but gaining conviction. “I've seen it, whatever happens, when they try to fix it they make it worse and that, that somehow draws trouble here! But it isn't looking for them, it's looking for us, it, I don't know how to explain it, but I keep trying to work it out, what I'm seeing, and I just know that if we stay here one of us is gonna-”

He breaks off, pale, and shakes his head. “I don't know. But I, I've been feeling it, it's stronger, the feeling that we, if this does kick off, if things start going wrong then if we leave town, we can stop things getting worse.”

“Oh come on,” Gerard snarks, flopping back down onto the bed. “Where the fuck are we gonna be able to run to that's any good, these two haven't even graduated yet, we have jobs, you really think we're gonna last long on our own?”

“Not long, just long enough, maybe.” Ray sighs, folding his arms again. “Look, I didn't say we would need to do it, I just... I think it's a good back up plan. For emergencies. Fuck it, even if we only ever use it just to get Mikey out of a shotgun wedding and away from some pissed off papa it's good to have a plan.”

Frank laughs, earning himself another smack from Mikey, but he nods. “I like it, and,” he adds, placing a hand flat on Gerard's chest and looking him in the eyes to still his objections, “as boy voted most likely to be chased through a scary field in the hopefully very distant future I vote we go for it.” He waits until Gerard reluctantly nods in agreement then turns back to the others. “So what do we need, you thinking like safety deposit boxes, buried stashes of treasure, what?”

Bob rolls his eyes but sticks the DVD in the player and turns back to the conversation. “Go bags, like on the FBI shows. A couple of changes of clothes, basic toiletries, ID, the Magic Books...”

“A stash of spell ingredients,” Mikey adds, “Nonna has this big bag full of a dose or two worth of each ingredient for emergencies, Gee could probably get her to help him make one up too. She's always on at him to anyway.”

“True,” Gerard admits, sitting up again but still looking bored. “Cash too, so we don't have to find an ATM in a hurry or leave a card trail.”

“You think someone will track our cards?” Frank asks.

“Not the big bad, but if anyone sticks an Amber Alert out on your juvie ass be good to know they won't be checking your account for condom shopping.”

“Eww,” Mikey mutters, shaking his head, but smiling in just the corners of his mouth nonetheless. “SIM card with credit maybe?”

“If we do need to split we can take my van, I can start stashing some bits in her as I fix her up. My tools, Gee's spell stuff, Ray, you wanna give me some of your spare kit?”

“My travel ball can certainly go in the van, and I'll grab some candles, tarot cards, just the basics I can use on the move and not attract too much attention.”

“Yeah, 'cause crystal balls and Tarot cards are discreet,” Frank sniggers. “May as well take the Madame Toro outfit too and earn a bit of cash reading palms.” He stops as a considering look passes over Ray's face. “Joking, joke, no, no veil, no-”

“We may have to top up on funds somehow,” Ray points out, “we don't know how long we might have to stay away for. Worth considering.”

“Seriously?”

“Guys, I think we're getting a bit carried away here,” Bob interrupts quickly, raising a hand. “Basics. Assume a week away in the van, just to get some breathing room. Some clean clothes, magic defences, cash, sleeping bags, and maybe some food, energy bars, Gatorade, that kind of shit. Think camping, not moving out.”

“Last time I camped was in the back yard,” Frank snorts, settling down on the bed beside Gerard again and wrapping himself octopus style over and around him. “Maybe we should start having more sleepovers so I can get in practice...”

“I can certainly get used to being under covers with you...”

Rolling his eyes, Mikey turns away and motions for Bob to start the movie even as Ray drops down to sit beside them, ignoring the pair on the bed completely. Letting his hand rest lightly next to Mikey's, Ray looks at him as Bob clicks off the lamp.

_*Thanks for that. I didn't know how to... Not without freaking them out._ *

_*You sure it's gonna be necessary?_ *

Casting a quick glance behind him at the couple, even as Bob smacks Gerard's foot to get them to stop kissing, Ray nods slowly. _*Wish I wasn't but yeah. Positive_ *

_*Then let's do this. After the movie._ *

Snorting, Ray grabs the popcorn and settles down, a weight off his mind and a feeling of _right_ surging through him. He's changing the future, he knows he is, their odds of escaping whatever darkness it is that is awaiting them are improving. He can change their fate.

He just hopes he can change it enough.

*******************************

As Mikey predicted, their grandmother is all too happy to help Gerard sort out a bag of spell ingredients, and after a fun evening going through them and making sure their old spell books and notes are safely tucked in the side the brothers head to bed. As he gets changed, Mikey can't help running through the ingredients in his head, seeing each little tub and bottle and jar and twist of brown paper or sandwich bag tucked into a different slot in one of Gerard's old art cases.

They should really make sure everything is labelled clearly, Mikey thinks to himself as he settles into bed, just in case Frank or the others need to use it. Gerard could probably borrow the label maker from work, that would do it. And maybe some napkins and cloths would be a good idea, mixing spells can be messy work, not to mention they should get a spare bottle of gas for the little burner stove, maybe they can use it for cooking food as well as potions on the road...

He doesn't even notice when his thoughts slip into dreams, his hands steadily labelling little glass bottles of things such as a cloudy liquid called 'Frank's laughter' or a bag of 'Ray's worry'. They all get labelled carefully and put into the box along with several packets of Cheetos and a big bag of twizzlers that have been roughly plaited together around what looks like marshmallows.

“You know you can't stop this?” Mikey doesn't look up from his work as Bert flops down in front of him on the floor of the Haunted House, gangly limbs and unwashed hair a messy contrast to the methodically packed box. “Not that you even have any idea what you're trying to stop, Hell, could be the apocalypse and you'd still be here playing with your lotions.” Bert peers into the box, moving the layers of trays aside and revealing a box far bigger than its outside suggests.

“Don't forget to leave room for the cheese.” Bert pokes Mikey in the shoulder, forcing him to look up and see the dead grey of his eyes, the layer of dried blood making the side of his hair stick out. “The cheese, get it?” At Mikey's lack of response, Bert huffs and tosses a few slices of vac packed cheese into the box. “Your brother would get it, classic Buffy, wasted on you kiddo.”

Picking up a glass bottle labelled 'Gerard's Soul' Bert fiddles with the stopper, shaking the bottle up and the liquid inside gets darker with each shake, something dark like a rotten tequila worm or burnt coffee bean dancing around on the bottom.

Mikey looks round at the sound of a moan from behind him and there's Gerard in his bed, twisting in his sleep, but of course he is there, this is Gerard's room. The sound of the stopper lifting off the bottle is loud in the quiet room but Bert sloshing the liquid around is what draws Mikey's attention back. He watches as Bert takes a long drink from the bottle, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve as he reseals it and drops it back into the box.

“Delicious. You know, you should market that, once you've had a taste you just can't stop wanting more.” Pushing up off the floor, Bert stalks over to the bed, taking off his jacket and bloody t-shirt as he goes before clambering up onto the sheets. Mikey can hear Gerard moan again in his sleep, twisting away as Bert's hands start to roam over him and it's not a good sound, it's not, he doesn't like it, he's whispering for Bert to stop, he doesn't want this-

Bolting upright in bed, Mikey doesn't even wait for his breathing to calm before he's padding down the stairs, hand sliding along the bannister for support in the darkness. He can hear the whimpers as soon as he opens the basement door and hurries down the stairs, almost slipping on the corner at the bottom before straightening out and picking his way across Gerard's floor. Aiming for the piles of clothes seems the safest route, and he only steps on something sharp once before dropping with a complete lack of finesse onto Gerard's bed.

“Gee, wake up man, come on, it's just a bad dream.” Placing his hands wide on Gerard's shoulders, Mikey shakes him gently, ignoring the prickle of Gerard's shields trying to push him away even in his sleep. “No, come on, it's me, Mikey, wake up Gee, please-” A particularly harsh shock runs through his fingers as Gerard tries to push him away and Mikey reflexively pushes back with his mind, skimming over the dead zone that is Gerard's mind but shoving against it all the same, poking hard at his shields and for a second he finds a weak spot, jabbing through it like a needle before he really realises he's done it.

Gerard screams as he wakes, pushing Mikey away with hands and shields and before he can stop himself, Mikey finds himself hurling off the end of the bed and crashing to the floor. The landing is awkward, something digging into his spine and he can feel his wrist throb where he tried to break his fall. “Fuck.”

“M-Mikey?” Gerard scrambles down the bed, his skin slick with sweat and breath too fast, too panicked. “Oh Jesus, Mikey, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-”

Waving him off, Mikey forces his way upright and cradles his wrist to his chest as he struggles to find enough clear floor to work his way up again. “S'okay, you didn't mean to.”

“I was dreaming, I thought you were-”

“I know, I came to wake you, I-”

Mikey isn't sure at what point he ends up being dragged up onto Gerard's bed but he is suddenly there, trapped in a really quite hot and sweaty hug that is kinda uncomfortable – not to mention a little ripe – but he goes with it, nodding to the apologies and promises in his ear and whispering comfort of his own.

“Stay?” Gerard whispers at last, fingers wrapping around Mikey's wrist and soothing the ache, replacing it with just a slight stiffness. “I just-”

“Don't need to explain, idiot.” Mikey just pushes his brother back into the bed and crawls in beside him, “Now shut the fuck up and get some rest.”

“Thanks,” Gerard slurs before slipping back into his dreams. Mikey pulls the covers over them both and closes his eyes too, but instead of sleeping just listens to the gentle sound of Gerard's breathing and the reassuring silence of his mind.

*******************************************

Frank should know by now he can't keep much from his mom, not since her new “rule every moment of my son's life until he goes insane” method of parenting kicked in anyway. Sneaking a few stolen moments with Gerard is one thing. He should've realised the sleeping bag leaving the attic and appearing in his room would be a give away.

Not to mention, him actually starting to launder his own clothes.

“You planning a camping trip with your boyfriend, or a quick getaway from trouble?”

Jumping guiltily, Frank considers trying to stall or hide, but they promised no more lies, he won't lie to her any more – and vice versa.

“Quick getaway,” he admits, “hopefully won't need it, but, uh, Ray, my friend who sees shi- stuff? He's been seeing things, bad things. And I, um, it looks like...” Blowing out a sharp breath, Frank tries to figure out how to put the few fragments of images that Ray has shared and the general feeling of 'bad shit going down' into words that don't sound completely crazy. He doesn't move as his mom sits down next to him on the bed, a hand running over his hair slowly before tugging him in to rest by her side.

“No need to explain, any of it. You're not paranoid if they're really out to get you, remember? I spent the first year of your life with a bag packed by the door, just in case. I just...”

Frank wraps around his mom and hugs her tight. “What?”

“I just always figured if we needed to run I'd be going with you, I'd be the one to protect you. But I... I doubt that's what you've got in mind. I'd just slow you down like this.” The sudden lump in Frank's throat is hard to swallow around, lodged firmly against his adams apple, but he hugs her tight instead.

“Mom-”

“You know, I was your age when I ran away from my collective. Okay, maybe a year or so older, I'd at least graduated first, but when I ran, I ran alone and I ran into a whole heap of trouble whereas you're running away from it. You, you're so much smarter than me sometimes.”

“Mom, I need...” Frank can't look up, can't look her in the eyes, instead focusing on the sight of her hand resting on his arm and noticing for the first time the faint creases marking the back of it. When did they get there? When did she start getting old? “Promise me, if anything does happen, if I can't be here then you'll get out of town, go to dad's or something, back to Gabe's mom's place, anything, just- I can't-” Letting out a shuddering sigh, Frank clings on tight to his mother and lets himself be a child again. “I just, I don't know what to do and if anything happened to you-”

“Oh Frankie, baby, I know you're scared, I am too, but whatever this is, whatever happens, I know you will get through it and you will stay strong, you are so, so strong...”

Frank snorts, snuffling in closer to his mom's skin unashamedly, just breathing in the scent of her that has been with him his whole life. “Yeah, right.”

“Yes, right, you are amazing Frank and I am so, so proud of you. So if you need to run, you run baby, you run so fast and so hard that no one could ever catch you, and don't worry about me because I'll be running just as hard. And never forget that no matter where you go, no matter how lost you get, I will always, always, find you, even when you can't find yourself.”

Snorting again, Frank shakes his head as best he can in her arms. “Magic?”

“Better than magic, stronger. You're my child and no force on Earth will keep me from loving and protecting you as long as I live. Even when we've been apart I've never stopped looking over you. So you do what you have to do baby, and I will be waiting for you whenever you are ready to come home again.”

Clinging on tight, Frank lets go at last and starts to sob in earnest, the tension of the last few months that has been building up within him letting go for a short while. As he whispers his fears and worries he for one brief moment lets himself believe the child within him that still says a kiss from a mother is it's own magic and will make it all better.

********************************************

Ray yawns as he makes his way out of work, waving goodnight to the others before heading towards his car. It's frosty out, the snow glistening in the streetlights and the ice on the pavements threatening to take his feet out from under him. Picking his way over to the car park, he doesn't even notice Gerard leaning against his car until he's almost on top of him.

“Jesus, Way, what you doing here?”

Shrugging, Gerard carries on drawing a little figure into the frost on Ray's windowpane. “Coffee break, figured I'd just try and catch you before you go home. See how you're doing.”

Rolling his eyes, Ray opens up the car and slides in, turning the heating on as soon as he can and watching as the fans blow impotently over the frosted up windows, waiting for the engine to warm them as he roots around for a scraper. “I'm good, thanks, the sleepover really helped.”

“Good, good,” Gerard says idly, breathing onto the cold window and continuing to etch through the glittering layer as though he's never really done it before. “That's good.”

“Good.” Ray starts to scrape off the windscreen and waits for him to say something else, anything else, and frowns when Gerard continues to just draw in the frost even as the heat starts to kick in and slowly reveal little circles in the blank canvas of white around the car. He should really scrape the window Gerard is working on, but if Gerard wants to play it's easier to leave him be as it helps him to figure out how to put his ideas into words.

Assuming Gerard says anything else.

It takes Ray a few minutes to clear the rest of the car, just the single window Gerard has been drawing on left and even that is starting to reduce down to condensation thanks to the heat of the car. Flicking the scraper clean, Ray tosses it back into the car and shuts the door to keep the heat in. Leaning on the roof, he stares over the car at his friend.

“Gee, this is nice and all, but was there something in particular-”

“Your visions,” Gerard says softly, not looking at him. “Do you see me... Do you see Bert again,” he finally pushes out, as though the word is hard for him to say which, as far as Ray's concerned, it wouldn't be a huge surprise if it was.

“No, just the fire, the hunters, the same as before.”

“Right,” Gerard sighs, nodding slowly. “Frank, being chased. Yes.”

“Gee, you okay, you seem a little... Out of it.”

Snorting softly, Gerard turns to him and gives him a confused look. “Really? Me? Must just be tired, long day at the shop and all that.”

“Yeah.” Grabbing the door handle, Ray looks at him again. “So, uh, you gotta get back to the shop or you want to at least sit in the warm if there's more-”

“Oh, yes, the shop, Charlie will be annoyed if I'm late back. I should go.”

“'Kay. Well, uh, I'll see you later then.”

Nodding, Gerard lets his almost blue white fingertips slip out of the frost before looking at Ray, considering. “Until later. And don't worry about what I asked. In fact,” he says, considering Ray carefully, “probably best if you just forget about it.”

Ray shrugs, unconcerned, and flops gratefully into the warmth of the car as Gerard walks away. It takes him a few minutes to sort out some music and start to reverse out, and as he looks round the car he frowns as he comes across a drawing in the frost on the far side. It looks a bit like a zombie, or maybe some sort of mad clown. Shaking his head at the weird kids who kill time drawing on cars in the snow, Ray looks through the frost to drive away without a second thought.

*******************************************

Frank grins as he tosses the sleeping bag and rolled tight bundle of pillows into the back of the van and scrambles in after it, twanging the length of bungee cord Bob has stretched along the right hand wall. The noise is fun, but on a practical level Frank settles for wrapping the string of his sleeping bag cover over the rope and shoving the bag safely into the corner behind the passenger seat. Poking into the other bags and bits already stowed in the van and hooked up to the cord, he spots Gerard's new ingredients box and a carefully padded box that must contain Ray's crystal ball, judging by the candles stuck into the four corners.

“What's this?” Frank asks, pulling a long length of tubing out of one of the bags with a raised eyebrow. “You got some sort of kinky truth or dare game planned, Bryar?”

Rolling his eyes, Bob sticks his head around the door of the van and sighs. “Pump. Ray's got this inflatable double mattress thing he's bringing over later, and the pump connects to cigarette lighter so we don't have to kill ourselves blowing it up. Unless you're offering?”

“No, no, pump sounds good to me. Mattress sounds even better. You think we'll need to sleep in the van then?”

“Nah, should be able to get a motel or something, but least we have a choice. Or even just to make it comfier to travel in, might help.”

“Point.” Sitting back on his haunches, Frank can feel his hands shaking a little on his thighs as he takes in the collection of stuff building up in the van. “Better make sure we leave enough room for all of us though, huh?” Blowing out a shaky breath he shakes his head slightly. “Fuck.”

“Frank...”

“S'Okay,” Frank says quickly, wiping a hand over his face. “Just... It just seemed more fun when we were just like talking, y'know? Seeing all this stuff, this is... Real. Like, y'know, I really am gonna need to run for my life, and all that.”

“Yeah,” Bob says with a sigh, flopping down onto the edge of the back of the van, staring out across the garage. Frank shifts to sit beside him and they both hesitate for a moment before speaking at once.

“I want to ask you-”

“Bob, I need a favour-”

Laughing, Bob clips Frank round the back of the head and nods. “You go first.”

“My mom,” Frank says softly. “Ray's never... He doesn't see her at all, just me mostly, and I don't know- I'm not with her, which could mean great, she's safe, but it could mean-” Taking a shaky breath, Frank shudders in the chilly garage, even through his layers of clothing. “I need her to be safe man, she's- I need to know that if I can't be there...”

“I'll take care of it,” Bob says at once, nodding, not needing any further explanation or promises. “You get yourself clear, I'll take care of your mom.”

“Thanks dude.” Letting out a slow sigh of relief, Frank glances around the empty garage before letting himself slide back to rest on his elbows and look up at Bob. “So what did you wanna ask?”

“My folks,” Bob says quietly, rubbing his hands together and shedding small bits of grease and skin. “They're not really- They know about you already, and my dad's not exactly what you'd call 'in' with the collective. Gee and Mikey's gran is accepting and all, but his magic isn't the sort he can share so he kinda gets left out at all the big parties, so to speak, much like Mr Way but they at least trust him, but my dad...”

“Because of the Wolf?”

“Yeah. You saw what happened to my mom, the Collective _like_ my dad well enough, but you can see it, it's like an instinct or something, they can't help flinching. So, my folks tend to stay out of things. Nonna consults them on stuff, they're on her little council thing, but that's more a coffee group than anything else, a way to keep the 'non magic men' feeling like they have a say in their own kid's lives.” Bob sounds bitter and Frank shrugs.

“So what's the favour?”

“I want to tell my parents. About... you. This. Ray, the van, plan B, everything. I think... I think they can help us.”

“Bob-”

“You said your mom knows, and I know my folks won't tell, they will help us if shit goes down with the Collective, I'm- Frankie, Gee and Mikey have each other, and Ray's one of so many I swear his folks are rabbits sometimes, but you and me, we're only kids and it would kill my mom if she didn't know where I was or that I was safe-”

“Okay.”

“-and they already know a bit about you and my dad was kinda on the run for a few years too, so he might be able to suggest some, I don't know, good places to head or some shit like that, plus the whole sudden powers bit, maybe you should be able to talk to him about it and-”

“Bob, I said yeah already.”

“What?” Bob stops, confusion on his face as Frank grins.

“I said yes, idiot. I... I like your folks. And if you say they won't tell, then they won't tell.” Rubbing the back of his head, Frank's look turned sheepish. “I may've already talked to Mikey about whether we should tell parents and have some proper backup but he said his folks can't... It would get back to his grandma, whether they meant to or not, they're just too close so he won't tell them anything. And Ray's parents have his sister to worry about, but his mom knows some shit anyway and isn't prying. Ray thinks they will do what he needs, no questions asked, so why tempt fate, but your folks...”

“You... You talked to Mikey about this already.”

“You gotta admit, he's a good judge of character. 'cept for his girlfriends, obviously.”

Snorting, Bob nods and blows out a long sigh of relief. “You sure? It's, well, it's your secret man.”

“I got a feeling it ain't gonna be a secret much longer. And I can't exactly ask you to look after my folks and ignore your own. 'Sides, who knows when having a werewolf on our team might be useful. Less teen wolf and more midlife crisis wolf, but still, could be fun-”

Rolling his eyes, Bob pulls Frank into a loose headlock and ruffles his hair. “Idiot.”

“Freak.”

**********************************

Frank finally zips closed his bag with a grunt, checking that his school bag will fit inside it completely, just in case he has to run straight from school or something. Any books that happen to be in his bag at the time will just have to be dumped or something.

“Looks like you're almost ready then.” Frank smiles as William swims into view, resting unsteadily on the edge of his bed.

“Looks like you're getting better too.”

William nods and checks over his clothes, the rips gone and his hair sleek again, and if his cheekbones are a little more defined than before Frank isn't going to dwell on it, just happy to see him again. Once a week is about as often as he sees his guide at the moment, each time a little better than the last, but it almost feels like something is blocking them from each other.

Probably the giant lump of guilt and shame in the back of Frank's stomach at the thought of the fuck up of an exorcism that caused them both to get hurt but hey, who's checking.

“I feel much stronger, thank you. As do you. Your practice is paying off, even when I cannot be here with you, I can feel your presence and your strength.”

“Yeah? Doesn't feel like it,” Frank admits, unzipping the bag and pulling his school things out again, ready to go in the morning. “Any sign of Sisky yet?”

Smiling, Bill shrugs. “He may return one day if you call him, or he may have just been a passing friend. I wouldn't worry about him too much. Animal spirits are... not as bound to people as they sometimes were in life.” Playing with the sash currently tied around his thigh, the colours brighter over his knee like a bandage, he looks at his fingers for a moment. “How are things doing?”

“Same old,” Frank admits, “Bob told his folks about us all the other night. He says it went well. Mom and dad say they have got plans in place in case of any problems, and we set up a few new gmail accounts for use in emergency only.” Snorting, Frank shrugs. “Mom even insisted on some code phrases so we would know if the other was being threatened into calling or some shit like that. Ridiculous huh?”

“Not from your mother's perspective, no. She knows now the benefit of actually having someone to trust and a plan, rather than what she did.”

Looking up at his guide, Frank lies down on the floor and laces his fingers over his chest. “Were you scared? Back then I mean, when she... Y'know. _Strayed._ ”

“For myself?” William shakes his head quickly, “no, none but the very strongest of dark magics could part me from your mother, but for her, for her health and her safety, yes, very much so. I tried to counsel against it, to get her to go home or at least find another collective but, of course, she knew better. And then she met her new friends...” He visibly shudders, the solidity of his form fading in and out as he shakes.

“Did you know they were dark?”

“It's not...” Bill thinks, considering. “It's not a question of light or dark, good or evil, every Witch is human first and MagicKind second. There is good and bad in everyone, and if I was simply to pass judgement based on a Witch's colours, so to speak, then I would have advised you against seeing your friend Gerard for one-”

“What?!” Frank sits up fast, laughing incredulously. “Fuck off, Gee isn't dark or any of that shit.”

William stares at him and shrugs. “A soul carries many stains and memories Frank, and Gerard has a darkness in him, one that he chooses not to embrace but that doesn't mean it isn't there. Just the way you and your mother could have chosen to seek revenge after what happened to you both, and many other humans would understand, but it would have stained your soul and your magics. Not visible on the outside, but the darkness would remain.”

“Yeah, but Gee... He's like the ultimate non violent guy, he wouldn't hurt anyone.”

Rubbing a hand over his face, William sighs, his form starting to fade again. “Which is exactly why I do not judge newcomers into your lives, just guide you in your own path as best I can. Your mother's friends were not exactly a threat, not individually, but the effect they had on each other...”

Frank tries to focus as Bill fades again, reaching out into the thin air until his fingers pass through Bill's. “I guess. Just, uh, keep an eye on us, okay? Let me know if I'm doing anything monumentally fucked up again, and I promise to listen next time. Maybe.”

Laughing, Bill nods even as he fades away, his laughter warming Frank as he collapses back onto the floor again before staring at his abandoned school bag. Time to get back to work again.

*******************************************

The problem with planning for the unknown is that it is, fundamentally, unknowable. If Gerard had pushed the others to think about what exactly they were planning for, or even when they thought it might happen, or how much time they would have to react, out of all the possible time frames and plans they had in mind, none of them would have thought it would all go wrong quite so quickly.

If he had thought of it at the time, Gerard would also have taken a darkly humorous joy in having his whole world blow up on a Thursday afternoon, just like Arthur Dent in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Unfortunately, he was too busy to think of the connection until quite a bit later, and by then the hysterical laugh that slipped out of him at the thought caused far more alarm than the joke deserved.


	6. Chapter 6

Blacking out, or more accurately blacking in, is not something Gerard is unfamiliar with but it is more than a little unexpected when the last thing he remembers is closing the shop for lunch and heading out to the café   
for a sandwich. Not to mention he hasn't done it quite this badly for a _long_ time now.

For a while it had been a fact of life, waking up to find himself somewhere strange and unknown with no memory of how he got there. Usually the waking would be accompanied by a headache though, or the taste of vomit in his mouth, the smell of sweat and alcohol clinging to his skin. Pain, sickness, these are familiar companions to the confusion.

The crisp smell of snow stinging his nose is not. The sensation of hard, impacted old snow and hidden earth beneath his frozen knees is a new one. The sight of his breath smoking in the weak midday sun is less strange, although the absence of a cigarette to cause it is worrying. His body aches, but not with dehydration, or bruises and cuts from falling down, but with stiffness and a deep, bone weary chill that has seeped to his core. 

A shudder runs through him, sudden and overwhelming, his teeth starting to chatter as though just remembering they are there and wishing to remind him of their existence. It's freezing, the bitter air cutting right through his layers of damp clothing as though they aren't even there. His hands are bare as he pushes them into the snow, trying to get enough leverage to climb to his feet, but he collapses down again, his body protesting the move and trying to persuade him to just lie down, to just surrender to the cold, it will be peaceful, soothing...

Looking up, Gerard bites back a stuttered sob at the sight of the gravestones around him and tilts his head back, trying not to scream. “No, Bert, no, I won't,” he hisses instead, forcing his stiff and aching muscles to move to his will, and it takes him four attempts but finally he manages to stumble to his feet, clutching onto the nearest stone for support. 

“Fuck you Bert, I am not doing this, not again. You can't make me, maybe I can fuck up my own mind enough to think it's worth giving up, but I've worked too hard and too long to let you push me back there again.”

Walking through the snow is agony, his limbs sending fiery signals of pain with every step and his jaw hurts with the pressure of his teeth chattering and _fuck_ it hurts but he's alive, every single prick of pain is his body telling him to keep moving, keep fighting, keep living, and he doesn't dare try to stop it just yet. Swearing through his teeth and dragging his stumbling feet through the snow, Gerard finally makes it to the gate of the cemetery and sighs as he starts to make his way back to work.

************************************

Charlie is not a small man by any standards, not as tall as he is wide but certainly seeming to be on his way there. The small counter in his shop does little to hide his stature and when he laughs the boom of it seems to fill the small shop.

When he yells, the shelves shake. Which they are now, as Gerard pushes open the door and the transporter noise finds itself drowned out. “Where the Hell do you think you've been Gerard, I've been getting calls for the past hour saying the shop is shut-” 

Gerard pushes the door closed again and stiffly shuffles his way closer to the counter and the heater behind it that Charlie always has on full when he's in. Charlie's football shirt shimmers in the funky lighting of the shop and really, he looks more like a sci-fi villain right now than ever with his receding hairline exposing a shiny forehead and his Iron Man goatee crinkling with his serious glare directed at Gerard.

“-orders piling up out back, you haven't even checked the inbox for new orders and we'll be lucky to meet Fedex deadline today and-” Charlie pauses, cocking his head to one side as he takes in the bedraggled sight of Gerard, his clothes stiff with ice and his skin holding a distinctly blue tinge even in the bad lighting. “Sweet zombie Jesus Gerard, did you get mugged or something?”

“I f-f-f-fell, in the s-s-s-snow...”

“Goddammit kid,” Charlie sighs, shaking his head and hustling out from behind the counter to steer Gerard into the back, flicking the kettle on as he goes. “You look like you've been hiking to the Goddamn North Pole and back. You don't even have a decent coat on, for the love of...” 

Muttering to himself about dumb kids, Charlie sets a bowl of instant oatmeal off in the microwave before half wrestling Gerard out of his frozen jacket, and checking how damp his hoodie is before tugging that from him too and replacing it with a Captain America one from the stockroom. It's a couple of sizes too big for Gerard, but it's warm, covers his t-shirt, and starts to trap in what little heat his body has left.

Shivering, Gerard accepts Charlie's coat over the top, both hoods pulled up to cover his head, and tries not to wince at the sting as a mug of warm, not too hot, coffee is placed between his fingers. Sitting awkwardly on his stool, Gerard watches as the microwave plate rotates slowly, the porridge starting to rise with the heat and threatening to explode over the glass door before Charlie intercepts it and stirs in some honey from a filthy looking squeezy bottle. 

It isn't until he's finished half a bowl, spoon rising to his mouth, blow, swallow, repeat, that he even really registers where he is, or that Charlie is looking at him expectantly.

“I, uh...”

“Why didn't you call me? For the love of God Gerard, even forgetting that you left the store unmanned and went wandering out in the snow, even forgetting that if you'd asked I would've come in and covered or found someone else to, even forgetting that you at least owe me that much respect to at least tell me you were gonna be late, you didn't even bother to call just to say you were in _trouble_? You look like you've been walking halfway across the town, I've seen cosplayers in full Hoth gear looking warmer than you, but even _that_ wasn't worth a call?”

“Sorry...”

“Sorry? Gee, I don't want a damn apology, I want to know what the Hell is wrong with you? You've been taking days off, longer breaks, coming in late, and don't try to deny it, even if I didn't know the damn computer knows what time you get in. I've never seen you this bad and I don't get it, I thought you were happy here?”

“I am-”

“You're obviously not, and I know it's not exactly glamorous, you should be off at college with your talents, drawing for some big player not scribbling on my walls, but I figured you were happy with it, at least you used to be.”

“Charlie-”

“Dammit Gerard, I need someone I can rely on and if that's not you any more at least do me the courtesy of telling me, I don't care if you don't want to work here any more, I'm not gonna be pissed about it, but just tell me so I can find someone else-”

“Yeah,” Gerard says quietly, his eyes rising up from the bowl of porridge in his hands to stare at Charlie and Charlie can't help but shiver at just how grey they look in the light. “Yeah, you're right, this isn't what we need. We need to be free to focus, that's... This is a distraction.”

“Gerard-”

“Charlie, I quit.” Rising up off the stool, Gerard places the bowl down on top of one of his paintings and grabs his damp clothes and shrugs off Charlie's jacket. “Take the hoodie out of my final check.”

“Gerard, what about your work, your paints?” Charlie watches in amazement as Gerard unbolts the back door and pauses, looking back at the layers of work on the makeshift bench and shrugs. 

“Keep it. Who knows, maybe it will be worth something after I'm gone.” 

Closing the door behind him, he strides off into the snow again leaving a shell shocked Charlie behind.

******************************

Mikey has seen his brother in various states before. Drunk, exhausted, starving, terrified, sick, even horny (not one he ever wants to remember but hey, it happened, it's been blocked from his memory, it's gone.) But this one is one he hoped to never see again.

Gerard is higher than a fucking _kite_ and, to make Mikey's life complete, he's barely even got had a chance to get home from a shift after school at the coffee shop and dump his bag in the hallway before he realises this. Gerard sprawling over the couch, his feet in the air and his head leaning down to stare upside down across the room is a bit of a giveaway. The smell coming off him is another.

The insane giggling? Yeah that just confirms it like a big neon sign, or Bob Marley playing in the corner. Sighing, Mikey dumps his things and, not even bothering to speak to him first because he knows it will be useless, tries to lever Gerard off the couch and to his feet. This is hard to do because, 

a) He's upside down, his feet kicking at the living room curtains and then at Mikey  
b) The giggling. The insane giggling.  
c) He may be skinnier than he was as a teenager but seriously, he's a dead weight and doing nothing to help.

If, Mikey thinks, trying to figure out what to do, he can just get Gerard down to the basement, give him time to come down again, maybe he can minimise the damage, hide him away for a bit so-

Which would, of course, be the exact moment his mom gets home.

At the first yell, Mikey gives up, figuring retreat is the better part of valour and all that, but mostly, anger makes his stomach ache and really, he's had a long enough day as it is already. Dropping Gerard back onto the couch, upright this time at least, Mikey shifts slowly back towards the door as the fight starts. Watching his mom get that angry is never fun, even when it's not directed at him, and she's just going to get that hard and disappointed look again, the one that hides the hard spike of terror in her head. It's time to go.

Except he can do nothing but freeze in place as he hears something that sends a shiver of wrongness down his spine.

“What do you mean you've _quit?_ ”

“You heard me mommy,” Gerard grins from the couch, lazy and slow, and the tone of his voice is wrong, none of his usual exuberance, just a slow drawl that somehow sits wrong in Mikey's ear. “I mean, I've quit that stupid, dead end job, told Charlie where he can stick it, handed in my notice, quit.”

“Gerard-”

“Mom, it's cool, really,” Gerard swings his legs up from the couch and stands, almost sauntering across the room before leaning heavily against the wall as he doesn't quite make it. “It's cool. It scool. It's school.” Giggling to himself, he waves at Mikey in the doorway. “School is cool, get it?”

Mikey isn't sure quite when the last time he saw Gerard this close to imploding – or his mom to exploding – was, but damn if this isn't car wreck TV at its finest. Gerard is seriously out of his head, but there's no denying when he fucks up he really goes for it. Coffee, cigarettes, booze, love, he's the worst kind of addict, but maybe this isn't so bad, it's just a job, no one is hurt, there's no blood. This, this is fixable. At least, that's what keeps running through Mikey's head to try and block out the sheer volume of his mom's thoughts and anger.

“Are you _drunk_?” Gerard just giggles, shaking his head quickly, grinning like a lunatic. 

“Nope. No siree, I promise all three of you,” Gerard ways, waving his finger either side of his mother, “that I am not drunk, no alcohol has passed my lips, only all natural home grown products of the finest home grown... ness-” He dissolves into mad laughter, full on crazy guy territory and something unpleasant twists in Mikey's stomach. This... This really isn't funny any more.

“Are you _stoned_?” Their mom is pissed, really pissed, and oh, sweet Jesus, the next words out of Gerard's mouth could decide his fate as decisively as a roll of his Dungeons and Dragon's dice.

“Mrs Way!” Gerard says, mock shocked and pulling himself upright. “Are you suggesting that there is anything in Nonna's garden of a _narcotic_ nature?”

“Michael.” At the sound of his proper name, Mikey jumps, facing his mom as she turns around, her expression thunderous. “Get your grandmother. Now.”

“Yeah, run Mikey, run!” Gerard shouts, waving his arms around. “Run and get help, go tell Nonna little Gee-Gee fell off the wagon and down the well.” Snorting at his own joke, Gerard falls back onto the couch in a long tangle of loose limbs and Mikey hurries out, pulling out his phone as he goes, but not to call his grandmother yet, there's someone else he needs to call first.

*****************************************

Ray is under a car when his phone beeps from halfway across the garage and he mutters a brief curse before doing a cursory check to make sure nobody is there and stretching out his hand. The cell slides into his grip smoothly and he gives the message a quick glance before pushing his way out from under the car and sliding to his feet.

With one last glance at the message, he flips the sign on the garage door to closed, pulls and locks the shutters, and heads to his car.

****************************************

Ray is deep in a trance, his crystal ball on the table in front of him and Frank sitting opposite with an unusually peaceful look on his face even as he concentrates too. The air in the attic is still, a chill to it that the single candle only seems to increase rather than negate, and only Frank's eyes and his fingertips are visible, his gloved hands resting on the table and the rest of his body swathed in clothes. Despite the cold, he is breathing steadily, the soft puffs of steam from his mouth in time with Ray's as they both stare into the ball.

The images swirling in the glass are a mix as always, twisting and sliding past Ray's eyes like a swarm of fish, colours and flashes everywhere but too fast to pick out any one image at a time. Still he breathes slowly, lost in the images, the chill to his limbs forgotten, the time passing without notice around them.

The visions are confusing as always, dark, flashes of fire a constant presence in all Ray's dreams now and he's sure that is something that can't be avoided, but exactly what is burning he doesn't know. He can just feel the heat of it on his skin, the smell of it in his hair. Underneath it though is another smell, damp and sweet and a counterpoint to the flame.

It passes, images flickering to happier moments, his friends around a TV watching some bad show, collapsed in a heap of blankets and pillows on the floor together, relaxed and at peace. Frank leaning his head out of a car window like a dog, tongue and all, and laughing in the wind. Mikey, dancing in a club, a group of girls around him and as carefree as Ray has ever seen him.

Gerard, his face twisted and manic with rage and anger and disgust and it's terrifying and _wrong_ but even as he tries to focus he can feel himself rising, breaking the trance. With his last efforts, even as everything starts to dart away, he sees something else in the glass, overlaid with Gerard's face, like a double exposure on an old film camera and it almost makes sense, if he could just look a second longer-

“Ray?” Blinking owlishly, Ray nods with care and sees that Frank has broken the contact, his cell in his hand even as Ray becomes aware of his own buzzing in his back pocket. “Sorry man, didn't mean to snap you out of it, but we gotta go. We got trouble. And for once it's not my fault.”

Watching as Frank blows out the candles and efficiently puts Ray's stuff away, Ray shifts on the cushion and wrestles his phone from his pocket before reading the message with a small groan.

_911 G stoned quit job mom home nonna on way – help!_

And just when things were starting to settle down again...

***************************

Mikey isn't hiding in the hallway, nope, but he is keeping a strategic distance from the volcano of rage that is his mother. She has been yelling for maybe fifteen minutes solid but Gerard still doesn't seem to care at all, each reply followed with a hyper giggle or uncaring insult, and it's making Mikey's skin twitch. 

He's seen Gerard drunk more times than he cares to think about. He's even seen him stoned, just a couple of times, but only back when Bert was alive. Gerard had tried it once after that, not long after the accident, and had freaked out so bad he hadn't touched anything harder than 100 proof since. But this, this just doesn't feel right somehow, the attitude, the language, everything just feels wrong.

The gentle hum of the guys' thoughts comes closer though and Mikey slips away to the front door, letting Frank and Ray in, knowing full well Bob can let himself in when he comes. Frank looks bemused as he hears the yelling and has a grin on his face even as they hide in the kitchen out the way.

“Gee got stoned, seriously? Why didn't he share?” Mikey just gives him his best unimpressed look and Frank rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, serious, big trouble, I get it, but come on, surely your folks aren't gonna go nuclear over some weed?”

“It's Nonna's stock, from the Garden, it's not really that simple.”

“Your nan grows Marijuana? No way! Man, I knew she looked like a bit of a hippy, but I thought you guys were kidding-”

It's Ray's turn to roll his eyes and he clips round Frank round the back of the head. “Medicinal purposes, it isn't a joke, Iero.”

“Ow, and fine, okay, but why the freak out, so Gee got high-”

“Gee doesn't do drugs,” Ray says simply, looking at Mikey for confirmation. “Not since the accident, and rarely even before that, at least once he got his powers. Booze, yeah, way too much, cigarettes by the pack, but drugs, he says they mess with his powers and fuck him up too much, they're not worth it.”

“So?”

“So,” Mikey says with a sigh of exasperation, “this isn't like him, this- This isn't Gee.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Mikey freezes, shock playing over his features as Frank shrugs, oblivious.

“There's a lot going on, maybe he just needs a little stress relief-”

“It's not Gee,” Mikey says again, grabbing Ray's arm and shaking his head. “That's- That's what was so familiar, the things he's saying, the way he's acting- It's not Gee, it's _Bert_ , that's who he's been acting like, Bert is the one who loved to get high, Gee loves his job, he wouldn't just walk out, but Bert thought it was a waste of Gee's time and, oh, God...”

“My visions,” Ray says slowly, nodding, “I keep seeing Gee but not Gerard, not him, I thought it was just a metaphor but what if I really was seeing that it isn't him...”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Frank laughs, holding out his hands to stop them. “Wait a fucking minute, you two think, what, Bert is somehow possessing Gerard? Bullshit, no way-”

“The exorcism you messed up, that night-”

“No, no, we were all fine after that, you checked, I was clean, we were all okay-”

“But you didn't see William again for what, a week? Maybe Bert was, I dunno, dormant or something?”

“Yeah, but since then, Gee and I, we've... Y'know, and that was definitely him, not Bert!”

“Oh come on Frank, think about it, when you messed up the exorcism we felt something, Mikey and Gee did anyway, what if that was-”

The sound of the front door slamming open makes them all jump, Mikey shushing them and edging towards the kitchen door even as, with a sweep of her long coat and almost a palpable crackle of energy in the air, Elena strides past. They jump again a few seconds later when Bob slips into the kitchen, smelling of the cold and engine oil. 

“Update?”

“Gee's stoned,” Frank starts, petulantly, “Mikey's freaking out and is convinced he's been possessed by Bert, and Ray is conveniently twisting his dreams to fit the theory, so please, do feel free to weigh in and add another fucking lunatic idea into the mix.”

“Huh.”

“That's it? Huh?” Laughing, Frank throws his hands up in the air and shakes his head. “Great, awesome, thanks for coming.”

Turning around, Bob marches straight out of the kitchen again and the others just watch, frozen for a second. “Wait, is he-”

“Hey, hi Mrs Way-”

“Oh, fuck!” Scrambling out of the kitchen, they hurry into the living room after Bob, emerging in a scrum by the door as Bob simply stands in the middle of the room. Both women still look furious, even though Nonna hasn't had a chance to work up any sort of steam yet, but Gerard still looks supremely unconcerned as he gives them all a little wave.

“Hey! Gang's all here.” Sniggering to himself, Gerard starts to hum 'wanna be in my gang' under his breath even as Bob steps closer.

“Hi.” Dropping to sit on the couch beside him, Bob leans back into the cushions and regards Gerard carefully. “Long time no see, Bert.”

Gerard sniggers again, but his eyes never leave Bob, checking for the joke, before he snorts and shrugs. “Took you long enough.” Launching himself across the couch, Gerard hurls himself on top of Bob and for a second Frank is sure he's attacking him, but then there's laughter and they are _hugging_ and- Okay, that's it for Frank's brain for now.

“Fuck, I missed you Bobby boy, did ya miss me? And Little Mikey Way, mmm,” Gerard whistles long and low, peering back over his shoulder at them, “all grown up.”

“Bert McCracken,” Nonna says slowly, drawing the figure on the couch's stare back to her.

“The great Nonna Elena,” Gerard – Bert – drawls back, “you never approved the first time so I can't see you being too stoked to see me, huh? So what, old woman, you gonna spank me?”

“How did this happen?” Donna Way looks round at the young men, confusion and fear huge in her eyes. “Mikey? What happened, how- When?”

“He's always been there,” Frank whispers at last, the final piece slotting into place even as he watches William drift into view at his instinctive call, nodding, encouraging him on. “He's- Gerard was always his anchor, _Gee_ is what he latched on to and Gee is the one keeping him here. I... I was so fucking wrong.”

“What do you mean, you were wrong?” Frank can feel himself freezing under the harsh glare of the boy's grandmother, her eyes filled with something hard and powerful and pretty terrifying. 

“I...”

“Frank's our fifth,” Ray says quickly, even as he moves to stand between Frank and the women – and perhaps coincidentally, but more likely intentionally, Bert. “We're... We're a coven. And, uh, Frank's a medium. So was his mom, but there were some WitchFinders, and she wasn't in a coven, and uh-” Ray crumbles under their stare and Frank snorts with laughter, then instantly regrets it as they remember him.

“I didn't know about Magic, or that I was a Witch, until I moved here and met these guys,” Frank says simply. “But they say we're coven and I guess they're right. And Bert's been messing with us for a while so I tried to exorcise him and I... I fucked up.” Staring at the creature inside Gerard's body waving at him from the couch and patting the seat next to him suggestively, Frank shivers. “So much.”

“Hey, no worries Frankie baby, you did me a biiiiig favour,” Bert says, tossing him a salute. “I'd be happy to repay that favour sometime, maybe you and me can take Gee out for a proper spin sometime instead of all that lovey dovey crap you two've been doing-”

“Leave him alone,” Mikey hisses softly, his arms folded as he hunches into himself by the door, his shoulder pressed tight against Ray's.

“Mikey, Mikey, Mikey,” Bert croons, pushing back from Bob and sprawling out across the sofa before patting his thigh. “No need to be shy, not like I haven't been there too all those nights you've curled up with your brother, we're practically family...”

Mikey shudders, his hands dropping to his sides and fingers instinctively finding Ray's, backs brushing together even as his stare shifts to Bob for a moment.

“... y'know, you two really are so close, it's sweet, maybe a little creepy and fucked up too, but hey, I guess that's par for the course for freaks like you lot-”

_*Now!*_

The voice is muffled in Frank's head, an echo rather than directed at him, but even as he turns to look at Mikey, Bob moves, grabbing Gerard's wrists and forcing them together, hands held out in front of him even as Elena moves with surprising speed. Her hands dig deep into her pockets for a second before pulling out a wide length of ribbon, silken and white and unravelling in long loose spirals from her fingers as she drops down to her knees in front of her grandson.

“I bind you, Bert McCracken, from doing harm,” her words are quick but clear, even as her fingers deftly wrap the ribbon around his wrists and up his arm. Even though Bob pulls his hands back, it is clear he is still _holding_ Gerard firm to let her work, Bert struggling against the hold futilely as Bob shifts to grab his chest and tug him back into the couch, trapping him there. 

“Really, bitch?” Bert snarls, “you think your voodoo shit is gonna work on me?”

“I bind you, Bert McCracken, from doing harm-” Mikey and his mother are in motion too, Donna having disappeared through the door the second Mikey yelled, only to return as the second round of the chant begins, her voice joining her mother's and a plait of rough herbs in her hands. Mikey on the other hand has grabbed a pack of matches from one of his grandmother's many pockets and is fumbling to strike one.

By the time the third chant starts, the match is flaring and Mikey has joined them in their words, the match and plait held above Gerard's wrists. They touch as the third and final repetition ends and with a flare the herbs catch, the smoke building under Mikey's fingers but rolling down instead of up to swirl over the ribbon, even as Bert continues to laugh at them.

“Seriously, you think ribbon and a bit of smoke is gonna do anything?” Frank can see the sparks of Gerard's shields flaring and making all of them flinch back in spite of themselves, but before it becomes too much, there is another wave of light and, when he can see again, Frank stares at the now black ribbon wrapped around Bert's wrists.

“It will hold you for now at least,” Elena says slowly, collapsing back onto the carpet and letting Donna help her back to her feet, obviously tired. “Prevent you from doing any more harm to Gerard until we can draw you out...”

“Can you do it Mama?” Donna Way asks softly, looking aghast at the snarling and swearing figure on the couch pulling at the ribbon with his teeth. “Can you get him out?”

“Not me,” Nonna Elena sighs, leaning against her daughter. “But maybe the collective as a whole could draw him out.”

“Frank...” Frank turns at the sound to see William in the corner, still a little faded but looking determined. “Even an entire collective cannot shift a spirit without a medium.”

“Right,” Frank mutters, zoning back in as the two women plan and Bert gnaws on the ribbon with his teeth and a smirk. “So,” he says louder, “what's the plan? When do we start?”

“We?” Elena snaps, “Mr Iero, just because these boys have chosen to meddle in things and have deluded themselves into thinking that you are a Coven does not mean you are part of our collective! You have done quite enough damage don't you think?”

“Nonna-” Mikey starts only to be shouted down by his mother.

“No, she's right, what the Hell have you all been playing at? Is THIS why you've been so secretive and sneaking around? We thought you'd just got a girlfriend-”

“Ten actually,” Bert adds around a mouthful of fabric.

“-and dammit we were actually pleased that Gerard was dating again, and Frank, you seemed okay, but this?”

“Seemed okay?” Frank mutters, even as Bob throws him a quick shake of the head to shut up.

“What the actual fuck have you boys been playing at?”

“Actually doing what our powers were meant for maybe?” Frank snaps at last, hands on his hips as he glares them down. “Look, I may be new to this but for fuck's sake, I'm trying my best, I'm actually fucking studying voluntarily for the first time in my life, and I honestly had no idea anyone other than me could get hurt, and I have the scars to prove it! You can be all experienced and joined and all the fuck you like but without a medium you're all just a load of hot air, so seriously, when do we start?”

Mikey's wince was not only enough of a reaction for it to be visible on his face but they all felt it. Coupled with Ray's soft curse in the corner, and Bert's outright snigger, Frank started to think he might have made a mistake. 

Again.

 

*******************************************

“This is bullshit and you know it!”

“Frank, calm down and shut the fuck up for five fucking minutes, please-”

“Ray, you can't seriously-” The noise drops suddenly as Bob gives up and physically grabs Frank, dragging him down onto the sofa and ending his pacing across the floor of Bob's living room. “Bob!”

“Sit. Stop. _Think_ for a second Frank, we still have time, they're gonna need a full collective before they can fucking do anything and we will know when it's planned so-”

“Fuck the collective, it's not them I'm worried about you ass, it's Bert! He- Bert's _inside_ him and- What if it hurts, or if it burns him like-” Frank pales suddenly and shakes his head before standing again and sprinting for the bathroom. The sound of his retching is muffled as the door finally swing closed behind him and Ray sighs, sagging forward in the armchair.

“He has a point.”

“He's been living with Bert in him for a while without us even noticing, a few more hours won't do any more harm.”

“He was hiding before, he doesn't have to now.” Ray stops as the toilet flushes and Frank washes up and stumbles back into the room, collapsing down next to Bob again. “You okay?”

Shaking his head, Frank drops his head down low and wraps his fingers over the back of his skull as though trying to keep his head from flying away. “Really not. We've been worried about me and then this-” Dragging his head up slowly, he stares blankly at Ray. “What are they gonna do to him? What was that whole thing with the ribbon?”

“A binding spell,” Ray says quickly, almost relieved to have a topic he actually has some answers on. “It's a protection spell, it helps block harmful magic and prevent it being used to attack, they needed to do it in case Gerard tries to use his shields to hurt anyone else.”

Frank looks at him disbelievingly. “A piece of ribbon. Really. So what, we can braid world peace friendship bracelets and stop war now?”

“It's short term,” Bob says slowly, “and personal, that's why Gee's family were doing it. It's like... Throwing a blanket over a scared animal to try and restrain it without letting it hurt itself. But it should bind Bert too. And 'sides, it's worked for their family before so may even reassure him-”

“Wait, let me get this straight, they've used this magic bondage shit on him before?”

“On Mikey,” Ray clarifies quietly. “He was dangerous at first, and even Gee couldn't watch him every hour of the day. Not to mention he would, he would uh...”

“Mikey kept trying to pull his hair out. And he would scratch himself raw.”

“But the ribbon helped,” Ray adds, “well, I think for Mikey they used a few things as the ribbon wasn't always strong enough, but it helped get him through, took the edge off. And Gee knows that, knows what it's for, so it's good, it won't scare him.”

“No, he just has to worry about the ex playing reverse extreme home makeover in his head-”

The sound of the door slamming open makes them jump, Frank half out of his seat before Bob grabs his arm to stop him going any further.

“Bob?”

“In here.” Frank sits again as Mr Bryar walks into the room slowly, dropping his keys onto the small coffee table as he goes.

“They called. It's tonight.”

“What?!”

“You- How can they get everyone together so fast?”

Holding up a hand to silence them, Mr Bryar accepts the armchair as Ray moves to perch on the couch beside the others, bracketing Frank in. “Elena is calling all the adults she can, and planning on doing a larger version of the binding spell along with a cleansing to try and push Bert out or at least restrain him so they can buy time to try something else.”

“That won't work,” a soft voice calls from the corner of the room and Frank startles, turning to look at William.

“What do you mean it won't work?”

Frank blocks out Mr Bryar's questioning looks and Bob's quick explanation in favour of focusing on William. His guide looks stronger but still bears the slightest signs of what would be, if he was mortal anyway, exhaustion around his eyes.

“Binding will help suppress Bert, it is a start, but it's like bandaging a wound that's dirty or with the blade still inside, the damage is still there and won't heal until it is clean. It might help Gerard surface enough to be himself for now, but it won't solve anything and will let Bert fester like an infection. As for a cleansing, it will do as much damage as your mistaken exorcism did. Cleansing is for helping the body's energies to renew and push darkness out, or for clearing drifting energies out of a space, but Bert is anchored to Gerard, it will just make Gerard's body fight itself for no good reason and may exhaust him and let Bert dig in deeper.”

“Then that's bad, we have to stop that!” Turning back to the others Frank quickly relays what William has said, watching their expressions darken with the news. “ We have to stop this, you guys, you can, can sabotage the spell or something can't you?”

“What?”

“No!”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Bob is last, and straight to the point of course. “Frank, you can't just sabotage a spell like that, with the whole collective there!”

“Frank,” Mr Bryar says softly, cutting the others off, “I understand what you mean, and you haven't grown up with the horror stories like these two have, but just think it through. If a properly planned, flawlessly executed spell has the potential to mess this up just because it's the wrong spell, just think what damage it could do if it goes wrong with an entire collective behind it.”

“But it's gonna go wrong anyway!”

“Yeah, but we've got a heads up on this,” Bob says, waving a hand at Ray carelessly, “we know what the problem is, we know what could happen, we need to either stop the spell beginning in the first place, or get Gee out of there before it takes hold. There's like a critical mass in a spell, the energy builds up in the group first, like when you got rid of drama chick.”

“Yes! Like that, Frank, Bob's right, if you think about the spell, we held the energy back and built it up whilst you dealt with her then released at the end, through you, you were like a lens focusing it on her.” Ray is energetic again, his hands scribing circles and shapes in the air as he speaks. “If you'd passed out or she'd fucked off, we'd have lost the link to her and stopped the spell, taken the energy back or let it drain out again.”

“Exactly, until the release we can change the focus and pull Gee out. Once it releases, _then_ we're fucked.”

“Okay, we need to get Gerard out of there before the cleansing, the binding is first and if that will help even temporarily it's worth a shot,” Mr Bryar says quickly, but shakes his head. “And we can't just run in as soon as the binding is finished-”

“What? Why not, why not just swoop in and get him out of there before they can even start this cleansing-”

“Magic leaves a trace, Frank,” Ray says tiredly, patient as always but with a slight air of exasperation starting to creep in in his own frustration. “A spell this big, it takes a couple of minutes for the air to clear, quite literally, if we try another spell that quickly it will likely fuck up, and if you think we can all just barge in there past a whole collective of experienced Witches and get Gee out of there without hurting anyone else-”

“Which is totally, like, not cool, just so you know.” Mr Bryar says, holding a hand up. Frank can't help the slightly deranged snigger that escapes him at that particular phrasing and Bob rolls his eyes.

“Yep, my dad, down wit' tha kids...”

“Fine, but I'll have you know I was deeply cool and mysterious in my day.” Taking a deep breath and drawing the boys' attention back to him, Mr Bryar continues. “Whatever we do, we will need all the help we can get, even if it's just holding the family back from stopping us. The Ways are keeping him at the house until tonight, Julie is there and she can possibly contact Donald quietly, but there's no guarantee as she's been dragged into working on the spell. Once they reach the garden we might be able to get Gerard out of the circle, but the big question is how the heck are we going to get him out of the garden, into a car, and out of town right through the entire collective?”

They sit in silence for a moment, considering, before Frank grins without humour and looks at Ray. “You know your dad, can he conjure anything bigger than rabbits out of a hat?”

Confused, Ray shrugs and considers. “Depends, the bigger it gets then he has to actually swap things rather than just make it appear out of thin air, has to actually make things switch places, otherwise it takes too much of his own energy. How big are you thinking?”

Standing up, Frank places his hand flat on the top of his head and raises an eyebrow. “About this big.”


	7. Chapter 7

Donald Way watches in silence as the two women in his life snap orders and instructions to the small team of Witches who have gathered in their house. Julie Bryar looks up and offers him a tight smile, taking a step towards him as though wanting to speak, before a call from Linda brings her attention back to the mounds of herbs and rope and ribbon covering the table. She's busy, they all are, working hard to try and save his son. Even Mikey is at the table, his face blank and eyes grey with pain without a trace of accompanying emotion, but the slight tremble to his fingers speaking of his fear all the same. They're all doing everything they can.

And he is doing nothing.

Unable to take just standing there any more, he turns and wanders slowly to the living room and the faint sound of ragged breathing. Tom, another Witch, is standing guard at the doorway, just watching over Gerard as he lays on the couch, his back to the door and his breath hitching oddly as he curls in on himself.

“Tom, give us a few minutes, okay?”

“Donald, that's not wise, the spirit might try to trick you-”

“I'm not going to untie him or anything, don't panic, I just want to talk to him okay?”

“Don-”

“Look,” he says, exasperated and so angry he turns and pushes Tom up against the door, “I am doing everything you lot are asking of me, I am trusting you with my child's life so you can trust me with a few minutes with my son!”

Tom just looks at him, then at the crumpled form of Gerard on the couch, and nods, stepping away and pulling the door to behind him. Letting out a slow sigh, Donald feels the anger fading as quickly as it came and instead moves over to the couch, settling himself in the chair nearby. Gerard is curled up tight, just like he used to sleep as a kid, all rolled into a ball with just a shock of dark hair sticking out the top of his pyjamas. Somehow even in jeans and a sweatshirt, his sock clad feet peeking up onto the arm of the couch, he still looks so young.

“You awake?”

“I think so but really, I wouldn't take my word for it right now, especially as the whole world is a bit... melty.”

Donald can't help but laugh, sitting back in the chair and regarding the slowly shifting lump of his son twisting on the couch to peer over his shoulder. “Your grandmother's stash is good for that. Did I ever tell you about the time I was dating your mom and we got stoned and I thought I was hallucinating when I accidentally cut my hand and your mom healed it. Wasn't until a few months later that I found out it had actually happened.”

A soft, half hearted chuckle comes from the couch and one too bright eye regards him carefully. “I don't suppose there's any chance I hallucinated quitting my job and, and all that stuff earlier huh?”

“'Fraid not.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Donald sighs, “that about covers it. But your mom and everyone, they're gonna fix it, they-”

“They can't,” Gerard whispers, his voice cracking over the word. 

“Hey, no, don't be like that!” Sliding to his feet he is across the room in a second, pushing his way onto the couch to sit behind Gerard's bent legs. “It's going to be alright, your grandmother is-”

“Wrong this time, she's powerful and everything but she's not a Medium dad, this isn't... This isn't like before, I'm not depressed, you're not trying to stop me from killing myself, or Mikey from going crazy from our own thoughts, this is, is, is something else, some _one_ else.”

“The McCracken boy.” Sighing heavily, Donald reaches out to rest a hand on Gerard's shoulder, rubbing it gently. “Oh son, if I'd known what trouble he would bring I'd have banned that boy from the house the moment you met him-”

“I'd've only snuck out,” Gerard sniffs, a wet laugh coming from the depths of his hoodie. “I loved him dad, I really did, how- How'd it get so messed up? And how, I loved him, but I love Frank too, and it was only 'cause he loves me that he even tried to free me of Bert and I just- I thought love was supposed to make things better not fuck it up even more, I... What happens now? Even if I survive this, how the hell do I trust myself ever again?”

“I don't know Gee, I just... Whatever happens, we love you, you know that right? And we will do everything we can to protect you and get you through this, I swear.”

“Even if,” Gerard whispers, casting a quick glance at the door where Tom is standing guard. “Even if that means letting me go-”

“Gerard, you are not going to die-”

“No, dad, wait.” Scrambling to sit up, Gerard winces and holds his head as best he can with his tied hands, screwing his eyes shut as his exhausted body tries to adjust. “I... The Collective,” he whispers harshly, shrinking in on himself as he talks, “Ray's had visions, whatever they plan to do tonight, it's not going to work and it might make things worse, he, he's seen something big, and I just- Whatever happens, Dad, please, I need you to promise me you'll, that you will...” Gerard breaks off, screwing his eyes shut against tears.

“Gee, anything.”

“That you'll stop me. Please, whatever happens, don't let me hurt anyone, just, whatever it takes, whatever you have to do, just, stop me, I can't, please, don't let me do that-” Breaking down into sobs, Gerard doesn't resist as his dad gathers him into his arms and holds him tight.

“Oh Gerard, I-”

“Please, promise!”

Taking a deep breath, Donald nods against his son's head and tries not to think of the reality of what he is being asked to do. “I... Gee, you're my son-”

“Promise me!”

“I... I promise.”

With a shudder, Gerard breathes deeply, letting go and just breaking down in his dad's arms completely. “Thank you.”

“But just know I will do anything I can to stop you without hurting you in the process, you know that right?”

Chuckling through his tears, Gerard nods again. “Dad, I'm so scared.”

“Me too, son.” Sighing heavily, Donald Way glances at the door again and fights back tears of his own. “Me too.”

********************************

Donald's fingers shake as they tip a cigarette out of the pack and fumble the lighter, making it take several attempts before he can get it lit, but finally he is able to inhale deep and step off the back porch into the garden. It's peaceful out here, the overflowing greenhouse sending the rich scents of herbs and earth into the darkening evening even as the setting sun ticks down the time he has left before they take Gerard to the garden.

Moving away from the house, Donald takes time to let his fingers play with the cigarette, taking slow drags until he is far away from the house to not be overheard. Slipping his cell out of his pocket, he is careful not to let the light from the screen be seen from the house and moves behind the greenhouse unobserved. It takes just a few seconds for the call to connect, but it seems to ring forever until finally a hurried voice answers it.

“Hello?”

“It's me. I- Gerard needs our help.”

***************************************

Ray looks up as his dad answers the phone, an unexpected smile breaking out over his face, even as Frank and Bob exchange guilty looks.

“Hello?” The smile gets wider and Ray frowns as a wink follows it. “Actually Donald, I have three young men here who have just been telling me the same thing, and I think we have a cunning plan...”

****************************

To say Ray was nervous really was an understatement. Nervous was for first dates and exams, this, this was the sort of terror that accompanied reckless extreme sports and aeroplanes. It really didn't help that everywhere he looked in the garden was triggering a flashback of his visions, déjà vu to the max driving him to distraction as he's prodded and pushed into place by his mom. At least Tori isn't there to worry about, safely at home with a babysitter. Two really. Sort of.

“It's going to be okay son,” his dad whispers to him, “we can do this.”

“You sure? I mean, it's a big thing-”

“Just follow the plan, it's a good plan.”

Snorting, Ray shakes his head slightly. “It's Frank's plan, and it's his plan that got us in this mess in the first place, so I'm gonna wait until we survive this before I call it a good plan.”

Dropping his voice even lower as the circle begins to form up, other members of the collective taking their places in the circle, Ray's dad shrugs. “Yeah but this time he's got something he didn't have last time.”

“A possessed boyfriend and a guilt complex the size of the Grand Canyon?”

Squeezing his hand tighter, his dad laughs softly. “No. Us. Now hush and concentrate. Oh and hope your boy doesn't get up to take a leak at the wrong moment or this could get embarrassing real fast...”

********************

Mikey can't stop the voices running through him as he moves around the circle, threading the long plait of ribbon, flowers, hemp rope, and herbs into the hands of the collective. He can hear their judgements, their pity, their disgust and hope crashing into him and it takes everything in him just to keep walking and moving on, focusing on the feel of the plait in his hands. It is heavy as it drags through his fingers, rough against his palms and fingertips, each stroke catching on the dry scratch of herbs and hemp, or the sudden surprising not quite there softness of a flower or the ribbon. 

Everything is still too loud, too bright, too sharp in his head, even though he's withdrawn to the smallest, most fortified tower of his mind that he can. Everything is too real and familiar around him, and at the same time feeling like a strange nightmare.

Reaching the end of the line, Mikey stops and takes his place at the end of the rope, trying to avoid the steely gaze of his grandmother holding the other end and standing a couple of feet away. The line is unbroken except for them, the pair of them creating a single opening in the circle.

He can almost feel the eyes boring into the back of his head even before he hears the laughter from behind him. It's twisted and so weird coming from Gerard's throat but at the same time, now he knows to listen for it, is so distinctively Bert.

He tries not to look as his parents guide Gerard – Bert – into the circle, passing by close enough to reach out and touch but steadfastly watching over their eldest son and unable to spare anything but the briefest of glances for their youngest. The ribbons tying Gerard's wrists are already fading to a smoky grey, the binding spell wearing off as the day turns to night, the star of his Captain America hoody shocking white against them as he drags his converse over the snow slicked grass, mud and green staining the hems of his jeans.

It's all happening too fast. Mikey can do nothing but watch as his grandmother takes his hand, threading the ends of the rope between their clasped palms to complete the circle and put its weakest point next to its strongest members. Sure, there are far more powerful witches than Mikey in the collective, but magic doesn't only pay attention to power; blood is just as, if not more, important.

Even in his distracted state it also hadn't escaped Mikey's notice that Ray and Bob were slightly further apart in the circle that usual, the three of them equidistant and marking a third of the circle each. Not that it would make much difference without their fourth member.

* _Mikey?_ *

Blinking, Mikey finds Bob's gaze across the circle, Mrs B by his side but without his father. He gets the distinct impression Bob has been calling him for a good couple of minutes.

_*Sorry*_

_*Yeah, can't think why you'd be distracted right now.*_

Rolling his eyes, Bob shifts in the circle, watching as the ribbon looped around Gerard's wrists is unwrapped a little and looped through the arch of a rose covered trellis instead. The flowers are long gone, just thorns remaining, wet and icy and glistening slightly in the fading light. Bob shudders as Bert, it is definitely just Bert, reaches out and grabs a thick handful and twists, shredding his hands on the thorns even as his parents hurriedly duck out of the circle so the spells can begin.

_*Just wait for the signal, Mikey, then run like Hell, remember?*_

_*Whose bright idea was this again?*_

_*Frank's.*_

Mikey shuts down the connection as he curses a blue streak in his mind, but judging by the slight grin on Bob's face, he caught it anyway.

Or more likely is just thinking the exact same thing.

*****************************

Bob tries not to flinch at the sight of Bert running his hands over the thorns, cutting Gerard's palms open before watching in fascination as the blood drips slowly down his wrists, staining the ribbon deep crimson red. It really is no surprise Mikey is suddenly fascinated in the plait in his hand and not looking any more; the blood on Gerard's arms had to be triggering all sorts of bad memories.

There is a second when Bert blinks and flinches, as though seeing his skin for the first time, and hastily clamps his hands together, panic in his eyes and he looks round and calls out, “Mikey?” 

Gerard, not Bert. So he was definitely still in there.

Bob glances at Gerard as he calls out and wills him to turn, to look, and cursed for the first time the quirk of fate that had made Gerard immune to Mikey's voice. It would be really helpful to be able to talk to him right now-

“Gerard, it's going to be okay,” Ray calls out even as Nonna Elena strikes a match and brings it down onto he plait. “Just stay calm and trust us, Gee?” Gerard finally looks round, tearing his gaze from Mikey's downturned head, and finding Ray. “ _Trust us_ , okay? We will fix this, I promise.”

Gerard nods, just once, then his face twists into a sneer as he fades and Bert returns, sniggering. “Hey Toro? Fix this!” Flipping them off Bert starts to snarl and swear at the collective even as the plait starts to smoke and there is no time for words any more. The spell has begun.

********************************

The binding comes first.

Bob can feel his shoulders ache with tension as soon as the chant begins, the quiet sound of Nonna Elena's voice beginning the chant of the spell sending a spasm of clenching through his body as though it is _his_ body that is fighting against the words. It isn't until he catches sight of Ray across the circle rolling his shoulders as well that he realises it might be true.

_What hurts one hurts us all._

This is gonna be a bitch if it goes wrong. So pretty much his fate and that of all of his friends are in their own hands.

No pressure then.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath and consciously relax his body, fighting each muscle to chill the fuck out in turn, he watches as the flame from the match begins to catch in the plait, crackling its way deeper into the core before starting to spread to either side. The light of it moves sideways in Elena's hands, instead of up, flaring through her fingers and Mikey's as well as Grandma Jones on the other side. As the flame reaches them, they pick up the chant themselves, taking Nonna's words and spreading them through the circle in pace with the flames.

_”Where there rests two souls, there should be but one,_  
One lives in the dark, one belongs in the sun,  
Let peace be with both, let nature's course run,  
We shield this man, we protect our son,  
Until this fight is over and won,  
Let no harm come to, or by him, be done.” 

Bob watches the flames come closer, thick white smoke trailing after them yet caught within the plait, and doesn't wince as it reaches his hands. It doesn't burn, it isn't hot but warm, powerful, more like a steady presence than anything else. The plait itself feels more solid, secure, as though a thick metal ring has taken its place and he can feel the hairs on the back of his hands and neck rise as he joins in the spell and feels the power of it running through him.

In less than a minute the flames reach the other side of the circle and fade, leaving the growing wisps of smoke to build in its wake. He can feel the plait start to shake in his hands, twisting and writhing like a living thing as the spell takes form, the smell of burning herbs thick and heavy in the air. Bert is still in charge, cursing and struggling, returning his attention to the thorns within reach, whether to try and use the pain to stop the spell, freak them out enough to stop, or just because he can, Bob has no idea. He could never predict Bert when he was alive, let alone now.

“Fuck you all, you think you can touch us, you think you have anything that can change this? He's mine!” Bob winces as blood begins to spatter over the once pristine white star of Gerard's Captain America hoodie. Bert's holding his hands as far apart as he can, the ribbon tying them to the trellis now stained and almost black with blood in the dim light. Chuckling, Bert brings his hands up to his face and licks at them, smearing the blood over his lips and chin. “He's a part of me now and nothing you freaks can do can-”

Bob can feel it, the moment when the growing power in the circle starts to meet critical mass and fights against the urge to close his eyes as the plait in their hands begins to glow, brighter and brighter in the dusky garden. God knows what anyone watching this from afar would think, probably that a UFO had landed. But just as Bob has to shut his eyes, has to block it all out or risk damaging his sight, the light flares, just for a split second, but enough to blind him temporarily even through his eyelids.

When he opens them, blinking against the spots in his eyes, he can barely make out the circle but he can feel the solid presence in his hand begin to fade, the trickle of ashes falling from his hands making his fingers itch. By the time his sight returns the plait is gone, just the long, unbroken and untouched length of once white ribbon left. The white is completely gone, solid, dark black remaining, and he lets out a sigh he hadn't even realised he'd been holding in. The binding worked.

Well, as intended anyway.

Looking back into the middle of the circle, Bob watches warily as the wolf in Gerard clothing hangs from the ribbon tying him to the trellis, limp as a puppet. It seems as though the entire collective is holding back, waiting for some sort of sign, and he can feel the jumps and twitches in the circle as Nonna Elena clears her throat, her voice a little hoarse from the chant.

“Thank you, friends.” Her fingers shake as she passes the ends of the ribbon to either side and watches as Mikey and Grandma Jones start to carefully fold it, passing it on around the circle again, repeating its journey in reverse. “Your love and strength will help protect Gerard when his own fails.” Bob can see the way she trembles slightly as the circle breaks up, hands dropping back to their sides as everyone takes a moment of calm to gather their energy. When she turns to greet her daughter, Elena stumbles slightly but Mikey is there to catch her, his hands finding hers instinctively.

“Five minutes,” Grandma Jones calls sternly, her gaze passing round the circle quickly. “Ground yourself, have a drink, and resume your place when you can.” Letting his gaze drop, Bob leans against his mother's side and lets her wrap her arm around his waist, gently leading him away from the circle. Nobody breaks the almost invisible line in the grass forming the circle, but he can see the wary glances cast at the centre, at Gerard's unmoving body. It isn't until he sees Mikey break away from his family and hurry out of the garden gate that Bob finds the energy to move.

“Mom-”

“Go, but make sure to give yourself a break too.”

Nodding quickly, Bob hurries after Mikey, Ray joining him within seconds of clearing the main mass of people and following the sounds of retching out of the tall hedgerow cutting the garden off from the outside world.

“Mikey?” Ray calls out softly, but it's fairly obvious where Mikey is, bent double in front of one of the cars and losing everything that had been in his stomach into the frosty ground. “How you holding up?”

This close, Bob can almost hear the pain in Mikey's mind and wishes with all his heart that Gerard could just do his thing, just step in and make it stop, make it better with just a touch. Instead when Mikey straightens up, his face grey as he wipes his mouth against the back of his hand, all Bob can do is wrap an arm around him and let Mikey lean heavily against his side.

“Dammit,” Mikey whispers, his voice hoarse with coughing. “It hurts. Head's been killing me all day and this-”

“You threw up the painkillers?” Ray guesses and Mikey nods.

“I just wanna curl up and die in a corner, but Nonna...” Letting Ray move to flank him and support his weight, Mikey lets go and allows them to half drag him back into the garden. “Not sure how good I'm gonna be at running like Hell, guys.”

“No problem, I'll carry you,” Bob says gruffly, sharing a small grin with Ray. “With your skinny ass, I probably won't even notice.”

“Classy Bryar,” Ray mocks, gently guiding Mikey down to sit on the ground on a circle made out of slabs of paving stone in a quiet corner away from the rest of the collective. “Come on, assume the position.”

Grumbling under his breath, Bob folds himself to sit cross legged on the ground and ignore the chill of the stone leaching the heat from him before helping Mikey into the same position as Ray gets himself settled. 

“Close your eyes,” Ray whispers softly, resting a hand on Mikey's bowed back even as Bob does the same. “Breathe deep, we're right here. Take your time.”

“We only have a minute or so left-”

“A Witch is never late, Mikey Way, neither is he early.” Ray smirks. “He arrives exactly when he means to.”

“Precisely,” Mikey whispers.

“See? He gets it-”

“No, the quote,” Mikey says, looking up and catching their eyes with a small smile in spite of his pale face. “A wizard arrives _precisely_ when he means to. I figure, since Gee can't kick your butt for that right now I would.”

Laughing, Bob lets his hand rise to ruffle through Mikey's hair with a touch more tenderness than he would usually use. “Geek.”

“Dork,” Ray adds.

“Witch,” Mikey finishes, taking a deep breath before forcing himself to sit upright. “Come on, let's finish this. One for all and all that shit.”

“Amen.”

*****************************************

A quick text to Frank, just one word, 'starting', is all Ray can get away with as he takes his place in the circle again, his dad beside him looking tense but focused. The tight grip on his hand gives away the worry in his mind though as Ray starts to feel his fingers sting. 

“Dad, little bloodflow, please.”

With an apologetic sigh, his dad's grip loosens. “Sorry. Stagefright.”

Snorting once with quiet laughter, Ray gives a quick squeeze of his hand in return. “You will be magnificent as always. Just don't forget the rabbit this time.”

“One time,” his dad mutters, “you accidentally pull your son's teddy bear out of your hat instead of a rabbit one time, and they never let you forget it...”

******************************************

Mikey is not ready for this. Then again, he supposes it is not as though he ever will be. Every pulsebeat sends a spike of pain through his temples and he can barely stay upright against the nausea rolling through his guts, but he has to do this. One glance at the figure in the centre of the circle convinces him of that.

Gerard is stirring now, his body twitching fitfully where it still hangs from his wrists against the trellis. It takes what feels like an age for him to get his battered sneakers back under himself again, the effort making his body tremble visibly as he pauses in a crouch against the cold earth. Finally, fingers wrap around the rough wooden slats and he pulls himself up, hair hanging down over his face and half covering his features but even from here Mikey can see the pain etched deep into line on his face.

“Is that... the best you got?” The slurred speech, when it finally comes, makes Mikey's spine bow with exhaustion. Bert.

“We have barely begun, Mr McCracken,” Nonna calls out clearly, her voice the cue for the circle to stir into action. This time, every pair of hands holds a smudge stick, the small plaits far neater and packed more tightly than even Mikey can manage. At Nonna's words, Mikey can see his parents lean forward into the circle, along with a couple of other 'muggle' partners and power passed mothers, long taper candles in their hands reaching out to light the herbs without breaking the circle.

“Yeah?” Bert stands up straighter now, regarding her with a tilt to his head before looking round the circle again. “'Cause I gotta tell you old woman, I can go all night, just ask your grandson- Oops. You can't.” The sneer on Gerard's stolen face clutches at Mikey's heart and suddenly he wants to forget the plan, forget the risk of the cleansing going wrong, he just wants to run into the circle, shove the lit stick down Bert's throat as far as it will go and smoke him out-

“Mikeeeeeeeeey,” Bert whines, as though picking up on the thought, “hey Mikey, why you wanna hurt me Mikey, we had some fun didn't we? Babysitting you was almost fun, especially when we snuck you into movies – then left you to go 'get popcorn'. Let me tell you Mikey, it wasn't only the corn that got popped, not once I got him in the bathroom-”

“Pick on someone your own size, Bert,” Bob calls out, distracting Bert, and Mikey takes a few seconds to gulp in air, grateful for the change in focus. Damn, he can't let Bert get to him like this, he has to focus-

He barely has time to stave off the worst of the anger and fear before he realises with a start that all the sticks are lit and the familiar thrum of energy is starting to tingle between his fingers. Shit, they've started, and he can feel his grandmother's eyes on him, chanting the spell at him as though he is a little kid again and slow to pick things up.

Glancing once more around the circle and finding Bob and Ray's gaze on him as well, even though the slight tension to their eyes hints at the pressure and energy they are fighting to divert away from the spell casters. Quickly fighting to regain his focus, Mikey closes his eyes and begins to chant but, as they keep trying to tell Frank, it's less the words and more the thoughts behind them that counts.

The energy is pulsing round the circle now, starting to build, but every time it comes through his hand and into his body he fights to push it down into the ground, like discharging a build up of static before it can grow enough to shock. He can tell the others are doing the same, and he hopes that Ray's dad is following his own plan and absorbing what he can to use later. This close, he can feel his grandmother's confusion and frustration as time goes on and the spell fails to build as it should, fails to get any closer to its critical mass when it should have been ready long before now.

Making a big show of yawning and stretching, Bert is all but lounging against the trellis by now, like some overpaid supermodel on a shoot, all lean angles and sharp edges. “So? Still waiting for this big bad thing you all want to do to me. Come on then, shoot, I got all afterlife but I don't think your boy does, he feels a little tired to me.”

“Momma, please...” Mikey startles at the sound of his mom's heartbroken whisper beside him, pleading with his grandmother. “Please, you have to help him-”

“Donna, come on, let them concentrate-”

“Momma, please, he's my son...”

Mikey flinches in spite of himself, wrenching his hand free of his grandmother's, the smudge stick falling to the damp ground as he steps back, breaking the circle. There's a loud snap like an electrical surge and several cries of pain and surprise as the energy stops, one Witch dropping to the ground like a stone as she takes the brunt of it. 

“Michael!” His grandmother's shout of surprise and anger makes him flinch again, backing away from her, “what the Hell do you think you're doing!”

“Yeah Michael,” Bert sneers, regarding the shocked and dismayed Witches with a cocky smirk. “Whatcha doin' Mikey, you changed your mind and want me for a big brother instead? Wouldn' blame ya if you did, fuck, I am so much cooler than any of you freaks could ever be-”

“No,” Nonna whispers, shaking her head fiercely and striding into the circle, even as the primitive part of Mikey's brain that was trained since childhood that heights are bad, fire is hot, roads are dangerous and all those most basic of rules each parents impart starts to scream in warning. Don't enter the circle, not after a spell breaks, not until you have grounded yourself again, not until you are clear, and never, _ever_ , in anger.

“Nonna-”

“Momma, no, stop!”

Elena is still clutching her smudge stick, the feeble wisp of smoke from it not enough to even be seen clearly in the dark evening until the moon sneaks out from behind a cloud and picks it out in silver puffs. “You have tormented my family enough, Bert, but don't you ever, ever use that word about my grandson, you weren't good enough to date him, you weren't even good enough to be in the same room as him, and you sure as Hell didn't deserve the love that boy wasted on you! He is over you, McCracken, now get the Hell out of his life, or I swear I-”

“Or what old woman,” Bert sneers back, even as the shouts and warnings ring out from around the circle trying to get her to stop, to calm down, to think-

Mikey is torn, he wants to go after her, wants to stop her, but the whole collective stands on a knife edge, he can feel the remnants of the spell's power still thrumming through his veins and tries to stop, to ground himself, to bleed it back into the Earth and sky but it is taking too long, he isn't fast enough.

“Don't you mess with me, you don't know what I'm capable of-” Mikey can see it happening almost in slow motion, an unheard scream building at the back of his throat as he watches with a horrified inevitability as she gestures with the clenched smudge stick, too close, too close, she mustn't-

Bert reaches out, quick as a flash and with a triumphant sneer, and grabs it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge huge thank you to Bella for her swift yankpicking skills and letting me post this a little early - all anger at the cliffhanger and wait for the final chapter in this part is strictly for me, as she has done the next chapter too already. ;)


	8. Chapter 8

Ray can barely see through the light that screams out of the dark circle, a sudden explosion of heat and noise and light and energy that shoots outwards, pushing back to the edges of the circle and sending everyone and everything flying back with the pressure wave of it. For a moment he is sure he sees the flash of Gerard's shields at the heart of it, but different, the familiar blue and sometimes rainbow shimmer replaced with red and fire.

Fire. 

Shaking with fear, Ray forces himself to spring back to his feet as quickly as he can, looking round the circle. Everyone is on the ground except for Bert, still standing strong in the centre, regarding the smudge stick with a strange expression. The circle is empty but for him, a ring of fire replacing the human formation and sending waves of heat into the cold air. 

What happens next is too strange to comprehend, the sound inside his head rather than from outside, but he can swear he hears glass shattering, not the loud smash of a window but softer, lighter, like the Christmas his brother knocked the glass star off the tree and it had shattered across the floor, leaving them all frozen in place until their mom could clear it up. There are no glass shards this time, but instead large flakes of ash start to drift down into the garden but they should not exist, the fire in the circle is not burning anything substantial enough to create ash, especially not such large flakes falling like deathly autumn leaves to the ground, starting to cover all traces of green.

“Momma!” The horrified scream forces his attention back to the other side of the circle and the sight of Nonna Elena's crumpled form slowly dragging herself up from the floor. Her face is deathly pale and fearful, and that is a look he never, ever wants to see again. 

“Interesting.” The voice from the centre of the circle reluctantly draws his attention again, Bert waving the smudge stick between his fingertips, even as his body struggles to support him. “Very interes-” Suddenly he screams, loud and pain filled, stopping abruptly as he passes out and drops it, another flare of energy shooting out from the centre of the circle but this time passing over them with little effect until it reaches the hedges surrounding the garden.

Ray hears the sharp crackle of burning branches before he can see them, panicked screams surrounding them as everyone begins to realise the truth. The garden, their haven and sanctuary, is burning. With them all inside.

“Dad, can you still-” Ray helps his dad up and watches as he nods grimly, his focus returned.

“The ribbon-” It feels like only a second later Bob runs up, the loops of spell infused ribbon bundled in his arms and hastily shoved into Ray's grip. A flash of Bob's pocketknife later and a length about a metre long is being passed to Mr Toro. “Thanks. Remember the plan.”

“But the fire-”

“Get out, there's nothing else you can do to help now, please boys, just get out!”

With a twist of his body, Mr Toro vanishes and reappears inside the circle, quickly wrapping his arms around Gerard's prone body and tying a loop of the ribbon around his neck. Then, within the space of a blink, Gerard vanishes and another small form appears, this one far more awake and alert – and swearing loudly.

“What the fuck?!”

Frank barely has time to take in the heat and bright flames surrounding him before they both vanish this time, reappearing outside the circle. Letting go of Frank and dropping into his wife's waiting arms, Mr Toro pushes them away. “Go. Now!”

Grabbing Frank's hand, Ray turns and starts to run, tugging him along around the edges of the flames even as he starts to feel the soft pressure of rain against his head, dripping along his scalp and sending icy trails of sensation through his body. As he sees Mikey huddling out of the way of the running and scared collective streaming towards the single gate, he takes in the sight of Nonna Elena, her hand upraised towards the sky as the clouds gather too quickly to be natural, blocking out the moon and stars in their hurry to drop rain onto the burning garden.

“Mikey!” Donna Way looks up from kneeling at her mother's side as Ray comes close and Mikey hurries towards them, his hand outstretched to grab Ray's even as Bob overtakes them and heads for the most open corner of the garden, far away from the main door and panicking crowds fighting their way through the gap in the burning hedges, a few of the stronger Witches with gifts that can be utilised against as elemental a force as fire holding back the flames so their friends can escape cleanly.

Mikey doesn't look back even as his mother screams after him, his grip fierce and thrumming with pain, but determination on his face as he follows them without question, obeying his abbreviated version of the plan. Run like Hell.

Ray glances back, seeing Donald hold his wife back, saying something to her and watching her face screw up in shock at his words, disbelief clear on her face. He barely has time to look back before Frank is pulling him to a stop in front of the hedgerow, the heat forcing them to stay back. Bob has his hands out, his face tight with concentration and pain as he works. Frank hastily drops Ray's hand and moves over to Bob, resting a hand on his back.

“Okay, so this wasn't in the plan, but it's cool, it's just like in practice, remember the candles, come on, I want to see you make a fucking horror movie face in those flames one day, but for now, all you have to do is push, come on, just push-”

With a snarl and cry of effort, Bob lets a small smile escape as he does just that and, like a hidden door opening, the flames and burning hedges peel back, bending back on themselves and creating a space. “Fuck yeah, Bob!” Clapping him on the back, Frank turns back and quickly motions them through, Ray hastily dragging the flagging Mikey after him and out into the cooler, clearer air beyond. Ray's car is just outside the hedge, tucked away from the main mass at the front and facing towards the small dirt track that leads through the fields surrounding the garden.

It definitely isn't a road, not even close, but right now it looks as good as the yellow brick road to Ray as he quickly passes Mikey off to Frank and Bob and slides into the driver's seat. Now he just has to get the fuck out of here, and hope that everyone else is doing the exact same thing.

******************************************

Mikey is all but passed out in the back seat, curled over in a ball with his head on the seat, and trying not to whimper in pain as his head threatens to drive him more than a little crazy. Well, crazier. The pain is so loud he can barely hear any of the others spoken voices, let alone what is inside their heads, and his eyes are screwed shut against the world around him. 

The windows in the back are notched open, allowing a rush of cold air through the car, making him shiver but at the same time soothing the ache in his head a little. A loud rumble of thunder makes him wince, but he doesn't even notice the rain that comes hammering down onto the car or flicking through the window, speckling his jacket.

A moment after a particularly strong shiver runs through him, something warm is draped over his back and strong hands smooth it down over his shoulders. It smells of oil and fire, the taste of ash strong in his mouth as it is tucked in around his neck, but Mikey smiles a little anyway at the familiar engine oil smell. Bob's fingers are too hot, almost burning as they gently pass over his forehead, but it's soothing and the gesture is so like Gerard's that for a second Mikey has to resist the urge to sob.

“Gee...”

“At the Toro's house as planned,” Bob whispers back, and he must be bent down over Mikey to sound so close in the noisy car. “We're on our way now, then you can rest, just hang on a little longer okay kid?”

Sighing quietly, Mikey tries not to let the churning nausea in his stomach take over and just tries to get through the ride.

*******************************

“So, I'm guessing something went wrong back there because the plan, the plan didn't say anything about fire, am I wrong? Did I black out at some point when you guys were going on about the risk of there being a fucking huge inferno?”

Frank is livid, and more than a little terrified, his breathing too rapid and too sharp with the combination of cold air and smoke, and the tickle in his chest keeps bursting out in lung shaking fits that sound like an explosion in the small car. Ray is concentrating on driving, and they are all grateful to be back on something that actually resembles a proper road, asphalt and all, rather than the bone jarring hay ride of the farm path. Still, Frank is shaking and can't stop sneaking worried glances at Mikey curled up in the back seat, and the way Bob is keeping his right hand held carefully away from his body.

Not to mention the fucking huge flakes of ash covering them all. Seriously, leaf sized ash, like someone lit the world biggest newspaper on fire and waved it over them.

“Come on then, what happened?”

“We broke the net,” Ray says with a shudder and an air of disbelief. “We broke it, how the fuck is that even possible, we-”

Bob reaches out from the back seat, resting his left hand on Ray's shoulder. “Breathe, dude, breathe.”

“Fuck,” Ray curses, forcing himself to breathe, even though each breath is as shaky as Frank's lungs feel. “I just... Fuck, dude.”

“I know.”

“Well I fucking don't,” Frank snaps, twisting in the passenger seat to see Bob properly. “What net? What the Hell is so freaking important?”

“The white net,” Bob says slowly, pulling his hand back from Ray and tucking both arms carefully against his chest, definitely cradling his right hand which, now Frank can see it better in the flashes of streetlamps, is bright red and a little shiny. “The net is a spell, it's like a much bigger version of the sanctuary spell and covers the whole town, but it's not there to stop magic, it's there to hide it.”

“Hide it? Hide it from who?”

“Everyone,” Ray whispers quietly, still shaking a little as he drives and Frank would seriously consider asking Bob to take over except he's fairly sure that's a bad burn he's nursing. “It makes the outside world ignore the signs of magic, it helps people within town just shrug off anything strange happening, but most of all it hides us from those people who are really looking for traces of magic. Best case scenario, we all stay very, very, quiet for a day and no one notices. Worst case scenario, anyone who was looking for magic last night saw it, big time.”

“Who would go around looking for...” Frank trails off as he finally gets it. “Oh. WitchFinders.”

“Yeah.”

“So, okay, think positive. I mean, we saved Gee, right? You don't still see him dying, that's right, isn't it?”

Ray nods, pulling into the driveway of his home with a loud sigh of relief and switching off the engine. “That's passed, it wasn't- It went down differently and Gee was fine, I think. He was definitely alive.”

“You _think_ he's okay?” Frank blows out a slow breath, shaking his head. “If he isn't, I'm never gonna hear the end of it, literally. But so, we saved Gee, but in doing so-”

“In doing so,” Bob spells out for him, “we may have sent up a great big flare to every WitchFinder in the States telling them where to find us.”

“So the chances of me being chased through a scary cornfield by them have pretty much gone from a maybe to a 'sleep with my boots on' level?”

“Pretty much.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Frank sighs, leaning back against the seat. “So, how long till this net can be fixed?”

“At least a day,” Ray says, staring blankly out the windshield. “It will need to be cast at sunset, assuming the collective is in any condition to do it. Not to mention, most of the spell ingredients just got extra crispy.” 

Rubbing his hands over his face, Frank looks back out the front of the car at the Toro house in front of them. “One thing at a time, assuming everything went as planned, Gee should be exactly where I was half an hour ago, so let's go check how he's doing. Just uh, do me a favour? Don't say anything about the net thing yet, okay? No sense worrying him if he's okay, and no sense giving Bert an extra reason to make trouble if he's running the show, right?”

*********************************

Frank is first up the ladder into the attic, his tired friends following slowly, Mikey all but being pushed up by Ray, exhausted but determined to see his brother before he rests. The light is dimmed, a small bedside lamp having been dragged up the ladder and placed in one corner, flickering on and off with each roll of thunder that shakes around the room. The rain is hammering above their heads, a wash of white noise surrounding them, and usually Frank likes storms, finds them cool, but right now it's all a little too horror movie for him. 

Especially the small camp bed covered in fresh linens, mud, and spots of blood, and one chained occupant who looks round at the sound of them emerging and manages a relieved smile at the sight.

“Frankie...”

Mr Bryar is sitting on the floor beside the bed, his large form folded up but somehow still impressive even as he rests cross legged beside his prisoner. Prisoner in the literal sense, as Frank well knows. Frank can't help rubbing his wrists as he comes closer, taking in the silver and leather cuffs holding Gerard's wrists by his sides, his ankles similarly restrained. They look impressive, but Frank knows they are actually pretty comfortable, the restraint more for protection than punishment. He knows it all too literally; he was wearing them less than an hour ago.

Dropping to his knees beside the camp bed, Frank takes Gerard's hand and wraps his fingers through Gerard's as best he can, ignoring the dried blood caking his fingers. “Hey, so, when we joked about bondage, I didn't really figure on doing it at Ray's house.”

Mr Bryar snorts with laughter before rising gracefully to his feet and beckoning the others over, quickly fetching some of Ray's bean bags for them to sit on. Instead of taking one each, Bob and Ray lower Mikey down onto a couple on Gerard's other side, letting Mikey rest his head on the edge of the bed.

“How's he been?” Bob asks his dad quietly, but still loud enough for them all to hear.

“Good, he only came to about ten minutes ago though, and only started making sense a couple of minutes after that, so go easy. It's Gerard though, for now at least.”

Frank lets out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and feels an answering squeeze from Gerard. “How are you guys doing?” Gerard asks quietly, glancing round at them all before hesitantly reaching out to rest his fingers against Mikey's head. 

“How are _we_ doing?” Ray laughs shakily and drops down to sit on the floor beside Frank. “Fuck, Gee, you just... Fuck.”

Bob snorts in agreement before almost stumbling down beside them, exhaustion starting to catch up. “You think you can hold him back for a bit while we try and sort this mess out with the collective?”

Frank watches as Gerard bites his lip, worrying it and making it split open along an existing faultline. “I don't... I dunno, I... He's so strong, I try to stop him but he's too strong-”

It hasn't escaped Frank's notice that for all that Gerard is squeezing his hand tightly, he has yet to make eye contact with him. “Hey, this isn't your fault, Gee, you didn't make this happen, if it's anyone's fault it's... It's mine,” Frank says quietly, staring down at Gerard's face in profile, wishing he would just turn to look at him, needing to see what's really going on. “I fucked up, I pretty much invited him to set up camp in your head and now...”

“No you didn't,” Gerard says quickly, turning back to look at Frank at last, “you didn't, I... Frankie I'm so sorry...”

“No, I'm sorry-”

“Great,” Mikey mumbles into the covers, Gerard's fingers still stroking without thought over his forehead. “You're both sorry. Then everything is better, Bert's gone, the garden's fine, we still have a white net, and Nonna-”

Mikey's voice cracks a little and Ray moves quickly to rub a hand along his back soothingly. “She'll be fine, she's conjuring up one hell of a storm, she couldn't do that if she was seriously hurt.”

Frank watches Gerard closely as Ray comforts Mikey, the surprise and fear on Gerard's face all too telling. “It wasn't you Gee, it wasn't your fault-” Gerard rolls over towards his brother as much as he can, twisting his body away from Frank.

“I'm pretty tired, I should try and get some rest.”

“We should try and get you cleaned up first,” Ray says softly, taking in the mess of Gerard's cuffs where blood still stains his skin and the dried stains over his chin and lips. “We can't risk releasing you, but I can do my best.”

“Sure, yeah,” Frank says quickly, letting go of Gerard's hand and scooting back up onto his feet in one not entirely graceful move. “You should... You should rest, I gotta- I gotta go check on my Mom anyway.”

“I'll come with you,” Bob offers easily, with a glance at his dad to confirm. “Your mom seems to like me more than these idiots anyway.”

“You wish,” Ray snipes back with affection, “you know all the moms go crazy for me way more than any of you.” Looking up at Frank and tossing him a very serious look, Ray shakes his head a little. “It's the hair. They just want to touch it.”

“And on that frankly disturbing note, I'm outta here,” Frank finishes, backing away towards the ladder and hoping to catch one more look from Gerard. “So I'll uh, see you in the morning?”

“Yeah,” Gerard mumbles back, not turning to look as they leave.

“He'll be okay,” Bob whispers as he pushes Frank towards the ladder. “Just give him a bit of time, he's still coming back out of it.”

“Yeah,” Frank mutters, starting down the ladder and trying to hope that Bob is right.

******************************************************

Mikey doesn't react when Ray returns with a bowl of warm water and cloths, getting settled on the floor beside the rickety camp bed. Gerard is quiet, just watching Mikey with gentle concern in his eyes, his bloody fingers still playing with Mikey's fringe in the way that usually bugs him, but right now is just soothing. Mr Bryar has gone downstairs to check in with Ray's parents over the phone, the low growl of his voice rumbling through the house whilst the boys wait in the attic, wondering what will happen next.

Right now, Mikey can't find it in him to care, too scraped raw to worry about parental anger or his nonna's wrath when she, if she...

Shivering slightly, Mikey looks up at the sound of Ray's voice and faintly realises it must be the third or fourth time he's called his name. Struggling to sit up on the bean bags and settling for getting mostly upright by leaning on the bed, he shakes his head a little.

“Sorry.”

“It's okay, just...” Ray hands over a bottle of water and a familiar bottle of tablets. “I got these from your bag, I figured, maybe you would be clear to take a top up of your pills soon, it might help. Plus, y'know, gotta stay hydrated and all that.”

Mikey could almost cry with gratitude, the thirst he hadn't even noticed now threatening to hold back his voice entirely if he doesn't do something about it soon. His fingers are shaking as he takes the bottles, fumbling them slightly as he gets the lids off and downs about half the water before tipping the tablets into his palm to count carefully and identify the right ones. How many, how often, which ones for which type of pain, he has it down to a fine art by now, but still he counts and double checks each time, whether it's just rolling his thumb over the surface in his hand or fastidiously checking colour and markings.

He can still feel Gerard's gaze as he takes another mouthful of water and pops the right pills in, swallowing hard before chasing them with another gulp. Now he's sitting up, he can see Ray beginning his work on Gerard's skin, getting Gerard to hold his hand out, fingers splayed, so Ray can wipe off the blood and dirt with the cloth. There's blood caked along his nails and webbed between his fingers, but only thin red lines to show where the thorns cut into flesh. 

The manacles will shift about an inch either way on Gerard's wrists and Ray tries his best to clean away the blood trapped beneath them but there is still a small stripe hidden beneath them that he can't reach. “Gee, I could release just one-”

“No,” Gerard whispers quietly. “Can't take the chance I'd- We'd hurt someone. Just... Just do what you w- Can.”

“It wasn't your fault,” Ray says back, quietly resuming his work getting the last of Gerard's fingertips clean (except for the ingrained layer of ink that they all know isn't shifting without the aid of some serious scrubbing). “What happened to the garden, to Elena, you know it wasn't your fault, she- What do you remember, Gee?”

Mikey watches as Gerard shifts as best he can on the tiny bed, his gaze shifting to the wall. “Not much. I just... Woke up in the middle of the garden, and then here.”

“Shit, I know that must've been terrifying, but it's over now, we'll... We'll figure out the right way to fix this.” Ray finishes his hand and half crawls around the bed to sit beside Mikey and start on the other one. “Just hold on, Gee, we'll figure it out-”

Mikey tunes out the reassurances as something pokes at the edge of his awareness and he finds his gaze moving towards the attic hatch on instinct, just in time to see a mess of dark hair duck down again. Touching Ray's arm, Mikey points at the hatch. “Tori.”

Sighing, Ray doesn't look round and carries on with his work as he calls out. “Tori, in or out, I don't care, but stop listening in you little brat.”

“Why should I,” she grumbles as she reluctantly climbs the last few rungs and slowly walks over to them, her too wide eyes taking in the chains holding Gerard down and the bowl, now with red stained water. “It's the only way I find out anything that's going on 'round here.” Mikey watches as she self consciously crosses her arms across her chest, slouching down inside her fluffy dressing gown, a midnight blue with yellow stars on like an old fashioned wizards cape. “What... What happened.”

“I fell in love,” Gerard says bitterly, and that startles a laugh out of Tori, even as Mikey tiredly spares her a small smile and shifts to let her come crouch on the bean bag beside him. She all but falls into his side, and he wraps an arm around her without thought, suddenly surprised by how big she's gotten. It's been a while since he was young enough to really hang out with her still, before high school and all that had gotten in the way, since Ray had grown too old to let his baby sister play with them.

“Thought that was supposed to be a good thing.”

“Disney lies,” Gerard shoots back, turning his head to look away from them again, closing his eyes and faking exhaustion. Or maybe not faking, Mikey can't tell.

“Spirit possession,” Ray says simply, rinsing the cloth yet again and frowning at the dirty water. “Dangerous, but not demonic, but still, don't you dare come up here alone, understood?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wriggling a little, she manages to elbow Mikey in the side and he restrains himself from crying out, instead pulling his arm back again to better protect himself. “So what, you gonna find a medium?”

“We have one, he's just a little new still.”

“Oh.” Looking at the bottle of pills still in Mikey's hands, she frowns. “You got a headache?” Nodding slowly, Mikey forces out another smile as she reaches out to press a hand against his forehead. “You're hot. I've got some of those cold gel things, I'll go grab some.” Getting up from the bean bag with an ease Mikey is envious of, she bounces towards the ladder again even as Ray shouts after her to bring more bottled water whilst she's at it, and some of the spare blankets.

“She's a good kid,” Gerard says after she's gone, still not looking at them.

“Don't let her fool you, she's a spoiled brat sometimes,” Ray shoots back, but he's smiling fondly. “She has her moments though.” Finished at last, Ray pushes the bowl aside and forces his way back up to his feet with a grimace. “Right, I'll pull the other camp bed over, Mikey you can take my bed and I'll-”

“No, I'll stay,” Mikey says quickly, wrapping Gerard's clean, if slightly clammy, hand in his own. “I'll call if we need you. You should get some sleep, who knows, maybe you'll dream something to help us figure out what happens next.”

“No, neither of you stay it's not- I'm not safe, I might-” the catch in his brother's voice has Mikey tightening his grip.

“No, you won't.” Shifting a little, Mikey reaches into his hoody pocket and pulls out the long length of ribbon, coiled and tied off like a skein of yarn. “We can finish binding you, we can keep you safe.”

“You can't be sure it will work, it didn't hold long enough last time, what if he comes back, what if I go to sleep and I don't wake up again-” 

“Gee,” Ray breathes quietly, grabbing the ribbon off of Mikey and placing it on the floor before reaching up and adjusting the loop still wrapped around Gerard's head. “You're chained up in werewolf strength cuffs, you're Bound, and you are in my space, _my_ sanctuary. I will not let him get to you, not here, just don't- Don't fucking give up on us again, you bastard, I don't think we can handle that again, not-”

Mikey reaches out to pull Ray closer, half burying his face in the soft hair, the clinging smell of smoke caught in every curl, and even an edge of singeing where he must have gotten too close to the flames. “Ray...”

“I got the-” They break apart as Tori returns, clambering up the last rungs with ease even in her slippers. “R-Ray?”

Sniffing quickly, Ray runs a hand over his face and smiles at his sister, beckoning her closer and co-opting her into helping him set up the second campbed. However, he also gets her to help him bring the last of the cushions from his area and set them up alongside the two beds as well. Mikey resists as long as he can but eventually succumbs and lets himself be laid out on the second bed, twisting onto his side to let him face his brother and still rest their hands together.

Tori and Ray talk quietly as they make up a nest of the rest of the coverings, fetching Ray's crystal ball and candles from the corner and setting them out in front of him. Mikey tries to watch, his heavy eyes catching the flicker of candlelight and the soft murmur of their whispers as Ray begins to try to See, his sister by his side watching the light in the dark. He wants to stay awake, to see what, if anything, Ray can find out, to watch over Gerard, but the exhaustion finally rolls over him and Mikey surrenders to it at last.

********************************************************

Bob is bone tired but just about hanging on as he slips out of the bathroom and back into Frank's room, Frank downstairs and almost bouncing off the ceiling with energy, the hyperactive little freak. Then again, he hadn't been involved in two major castings that night, not to mention a serious stretch of his powers, and an exhausting getaway.

Okay so he'd been there for the last bit, but really, the rest counted. 

Bob's sweater and jacket are abandoned on top of the desk chair in the corner, his long sleeved tee stained with grease from work but it's all he has. Sitting down on the bed, he holds his hands out in front of him, assessing the damage. There's no blistering, that's a relief, the burn uniform and just a throbbing, angry red, like a bad sunburn. That it covers his entire hand, palms, fingertips, even the back down to his pulse point, is the worst part, there's literally nothing that doesn't sting if he tries to use it. Which made undressing even this much a challenge, and peeing a particular pain.

It's a strange sensation, the pain; they'd all gotten too used to Gerard being able to take it away again, such an easy solution, that nothing was ever that serious or lasting before he couldn't resist just reaching out and helping. They'd taken it for granted that no matter what they got up to, it could never be too bad for long.

They'd taken Gerard for granted, and now look at the mess they were in.

Bob looks up as Frank's Mom comes into Frank's room, a jar of the all too familiar green goop in one hand, a roll of cellophane tucked under her arm, and various other supplies in her other hand. Bob reaches to take them from her but instead she motions to him to turn round on the bed and face her, and asks for his hand. Knowing better than to fight with a mother, Bob stays still and lets her assess his hand, rolling up his sleeve and hooking it back behind his elbows in a way that sends a stray memory of baking with his mom as a kid through his mind, his sleeves always unrolling down into the cake batter as fast as she could roll them up. 

The goop is cold as she starts to smooth it on, layering it on thickly before starting to spread it out over his skin with her fingers and he can't help a slight wince at the sting of it.

“Sorry.”

“S'okay.” Watching her work, Bob can't help looking at the faint creases on the backs of her hands, the marks of life showing most clearly in the lines over her knuckles as she makes short work of patching him up. “Why-” He cuts off quickly, looking away as she slows but doesn't stop moving as she rubs in the mixture.

“Why what, Bob?”

“Why'd you leave your collective?” Bob can't meet her gaze, focusing solely on the trail of her touch over his skin and the crash hitting him hard all of a sudden, leaving him wishing like crazy he could just go home tonight, or even back to Ray's house and be with his dad, needing that familiarity more than ever tonight. “I just-” Shaking his head slightly, he tries not to let the tension in his body through to his voice but it's harder than he thought. 

“Ever since we were kids we've been told to trust them, let them take care of us, and tonight, what we've done...” Taking a deep breath, he shakes his head a little. “I don't think they'll welcome us back with open arms now, but I guess at least we've got each other, we're coven. I can't- I can't imagine not having those guys in my life, and my folks. How'd you do it alone? Was it really that bad that you couldn't stay?”

Linda Iero pauses at last, wiping her hands on the towel Bob had used to clean up and dropping it onto his lap under his raised arm to catch any stray drops.

“I wasn't alone, I had William.”

“Yeah, but still...” Bob watches his arm, noticing almost distantly that his hand is starting to shake a little. “I was so sure we were doing the right thing, but the fire, and- They're my friends, more like family, and they got hurt, and-”

A slight tremble of activity rolls through the room, like the faintest foreshock of an earthquake, but Linda moves swiftly, moving her hand up to press against the side of Bob's face, staring intently into his eyes. “You did the right thing. All of you. And I am proud of you, every one of you, and I know that whatever happens now, it is going to work out.”

She pulls back slowly as the tremble fades, returning to her work, and shrugs. “Besides, it's a totally different situation to mine, your collective sounds far more laid back, and you all have families who love you dearly. That counts for more than you will ever know in whether they will be able to get past this.”

“Mrs Iero-”

“Linda.” Pulling open the cellophane and starting to wrap it around Bob's hand, she shrugs. “You've saved my son's life, I figure first names should be okay.”

“I- Why did you leave?”

Laughing softly, she shakes her head. “I was young, I was foolish, I was in love. I thought that would be enough to protect me and get me through anything.” Looking up, she meets his gaze again. “I was wrong. By the time Frank's dad met me I was so sure I would never be able to feel safe again but he...” She breaks off, avoiding him again. “I haven't even told Frank this. Either Frank,” she admits. 

“You say your friend's a telepath. My birth gift, not the sight I inherited from my mother, but the magic I was born with, was empathy. I could feel his love for me, every day we were together, and whilst I was pregnant with Frank I could feel him in my mind before he could even move. And I tried so hard to send him every scrap of love I could whilst I still had the chance, because I never wanted him to doubt for even a second that I wanted him so much.” She finishes wrapping the cellophane up and gently cuts through the length, letting the ends gently cling to Bob's arm, her tone turning matter of fact as she continues. 

“My parents had me late, and only because they needed to carry on the line for William's sake. My mother did sort of want me but she never wanted to let him go more and spent most of my life just waiting for me to turn seventeen so she would know he was around again. Suspecting it was hard enough, _feeling_ it... I couldn't stay. They loved me in their own way, but still...”

“Love can't fix everything, Bob,” she adds after a long pause, gently checking the wrap is in place and protecting the burn from any further damage whilst the goo gets to work. With a small smile, she looks up again. “But it really does help. They say you lose all your powers when you pass them to your child, but it's not entirely true, I kept just enough that when they took Frank away from me and locked me up I knew that it was because they loved me, and that was the one thread that kept me sane in there.”

Bob can't help the shudder that runs through him at the thought of anyone with even a trace of psychic gifts being institutionalised.

“Then why- Why did you and Mr Iero break up?”

“Because sometimes love isn't enough,” she says simply, shaking her head. “There has to be trust too, and that... It broke. You can't fix trust with a grand gesture or words, it's not something you can crazy glue the pieces back together for. And how could he trust me, when I let him down, I lied to him, I hurt his son, and didn't even trust myself any more? How could I trust the man who let them hurt me...” Her voice cracks, and she forces a smile out. “But love can be a powerful thing too, and no matter what I've lost, I have Frankie, and for that, for him, I regret nothing at all. None of it.”

“So, Bob Bryar, I know you're scared right now, I know how terrified you are for your friends and your family, and yourself. And you're right to be, there's a good chance that things are going to go to Hell for you for some time, but I also know you're strong, so much stronger than you know, and no matter what happens, you have a family who love you very much and will be there for you at the end of all this. Whatever happens.”

“How-” Bob isn't crying, it's just the exhaustion and the pain of the burn catching up to him as he swipes his arm over his eyes fiercely. “How can you know that?”

Laughing softly, she places a hand over his heart. “Like I sent Frank all the love I could whilst I carried him, your mother did the same and I can feel it, right here. You carry it inside you like a talisman. A mother's love is a magic all of it's own, even Dumbledore got that bit right.” Nodding slowly, Bob watches as she clears up the things, leaving the bed clear for him to lie down on. “Now, get some sleep, Frank will be too wired to sleep much tonight but he can take the couch if he needs to, you can have his bed for now.”

“Yeah,” Bob replies tiredly, all but melting into the covers as he lies down, not bothering to try to undress further and instead lying on top of the bedspread and pulling the blanket up over him. “Wait-” He looks up as she pauses at the door. “How'd you know about Harry Potter, Frank said you never let him near that stuff?”

A small grin flashes over her face and she shrugs. “I've been catching up on the things I'd missed out on. JK makes a lot of sense.” Clicking out the light with her elbow she stands silhouetted in the hallway as she quietly adds. “Oh and that Meyer woman is an idiot. I've met vampires, and believe me, they do not sparkle in the slightest...”

As the door pulls to, still slightly ajar just enough to let the dim light from downstairs cast a reassuring outline of light into the room, Bob snorts in agreement and, despite the unusual house and worries, drops off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for now! Our boys are safe for a moment, but still in a lot of shit. So, how will they get rid of Bert? Is Elena going to be a bit cross with them? What about ray's visions? To find out, stay tuned and ill be back as soon as I can (I hope by the end of the year as NaNoWriMo is fast approaching...)


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